


Boutonnière

by immistermercury



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (both of them), Dark Past, Falling In Love!, Gun Violence, I'm Sorry, M/M, Roses, and dreams of feeling again, bartender freddie, bomi and jer are so loveable, but is definitely eligible, but jim is engaged to somebody else, fred is definitely not rich, freddie dreams of being a musician, freddie is trying his best, jim dreams of being loved, jim is a rich eligible bachelor, jim's dad is not nice to freddie, people like this do exist unfortunate;y, secret moments together, these characters are not nice to the poor, they're in love, will he receive his hand in marriage?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 117,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24090010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immistermercury/pseuds/immistermercury
Summary: “That’s three-sixty, sir.” Freddie said sweetly, playing up the charm; once the clock struck two, wallets were usually held with the strings a little looser.The man handed him a ten and winked at him. “Keep the change, doll.” He grinned when Freddie blew him a kiss and watched as he changed it up quickly, the tip going straight into his back pocket.“You’re supposed to use the tips jar, you dick.” Roger muttered beside him.“Why? He didn’t tip you.” Freddie stuck his tongue out. “Anyway, I need the money for roses.”
Relationships: Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury, jim hutton/original male character
Comments: 239
Kudos: 99





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Something fun! This is the strangest cross of old tradition and new necessity, but fun all the same :)

“You’re on fire tonight, kid.” Roger carefully squeezed past him in the cramped space behind the bar. “I think you’ve done more orders in the last half an hour than the others have done for the rest of their damn shifts.”

“Maybe they’ll consider paying me more.” Freddie murmured around the cigarette clamped between his lips, pouring the fourteenth pint of San Miguel that night. “I was supposed to finish at ten anyway, I’m on double time overtime.”

“Why didn’t you finish?” He asked, leaning over him to reach the mint off the counter. “When did you start?”

“I’m supposed to be on earlies this week, six til ten. They don’t have to pay me as much and I have to spend hours cleaning before we open.” He rolled his eyes. “Three people are off, so I volunteered to stay.”

“Christ, it’s like two in the morning!” He laughed. “You’ve been working since six?”

“Eight hours. That’s practically a standard working day.” He cracked his knuckles and handed over the drink, ashing his cigarette on the floor as he smiled at the man in front of him. “That’s three-sixty, sir.” He said sweetly, playing up the charm; once the clock struck two, wallets were usually held with the strings a little looser. 

The man handed him a ten and winked at him. “Keep the change, doll.” He grinned when Freddie blew him a kiss and watched as he changed it up quickly, the tip going straight into his back pocket. 

“You’re supposed to use the tips jar, you dick.” Roger muttered beside him.

“Why? He didn’t tip you.” Freddie stuck his tongue out. “Anyway, I need the money for roses.”

“Oh, Christ, you’re still on that shit?” He asked, bumping Freddie out the way with his hip. 

“No need to be so supportive.” Freddie muttered, moving along the line to take three orders at a time: a double vodka and lemonade, a gin and tonic, and the fifteenth pint of San Miguel. “I just have to remind him that I love him.”

“If you saved up the money you spent on all these fucking roses, you might be able to buy him a ring.” Roger pointed out.

“Yeah, and by the time I’ve done that, he’ll be married and living it up in the south of fucking France or something, I don’t know. He’ll forget all about me.” Freddie stuck his bottom lip out in a petulant pout. “And I am saving! I’m saving for a deposit on the rent on a place in Kensington. I can’t ask him to come back to my parents’ house, can I?”

Roger snorted. “I forget you still live with your parents.”

“Well, I don’t.” He huffed. “My sister got out before I did, and that’s the most unfair thing about it all.”

“I think you need to go for somebody a little more in your league, Freddie.” He chastised.

Freddie dropped a glass in his fury and swore, kicking the shards under the counter. “How much for one of them?” He asked with a sigh.

“That’s a gin glass, they’re eight quid.” He replied.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He angrily tore the change from his pocket and slammed it down on the side. “Christ, how am I ever supposed to afford to marry him?”

“Calm down, petal.” One of the customers leaned over the bar and sent him a smile. “I’ll marry you.”

Freddie wanted to shout obscenities - he wasn’t his fucking petal, and he didn’t want to marry anybody other than the beautiful boy at the lodge with the hair that turned golden in the summer sunshine, who kept a bottle of lemonade on ice for the days he visited, in between working three jobs to help pay the family’s rent, to save up his own deposit, and to pay the rent on the fucking market stall that he knew was coming to its end. He only wanted to marry the boy whose arms he could fall into, the boy he could sleep against when he was crashing from sleeping two hours a night and eating the scraps they could afford with debt at the greengrocer, the butcher, with the milkman and the man at the corner-

He wanted to marry the man who played with his hair as they lay together on his garden swing, watching the ducks land gracefully on his carp pond; he wanted to marry the man who would lead him up winding staircases to dressing rooms where he’d repair the tear in the knee of his trousers from scrubbing the floor too quickly.

But here he was, a bartender, a washing up boy in the lunchtime kitchen of a run down restaurant, and a clerk on the nightshift behind the counter of a dodgy hotel. 

“That’d be far too good of you, darling.” He replied instead, taking the look Roger gave him as a warning; he’d been kicked out of too many jobs for not serving the customers with a smile on his face. “I couldn’t expect you to do something like that.”

“I’m sure I’d break a law with a kid like you.” He leaned across and pinched his cheek; Freddie knew he’d have to scrub his face with the old bristle brush and cold water from the sink. He wasn’t sure they’d managed to pay the bill on time, if his mother’s return to using the fire was anything to go by. 

Maybe he’d sleep there tonight, when he stumbled through the door of his house at six o’clock, ready to go again in four hours. 

“You’re in a foul mood tonight.” Roger commented idly, pressing a kiss to his cheek to try and make him smile. Once upon a time, they’d had something small together, something young and foolish, and sometimes Freddie found his heart aching for those days to return. “What’s up, kid?”

Freddie sighed and looked down at his hands; they were raw from washing dishes, dry and cracked and sore. One of the cracks in the crease of his finger had started to bleed again, and he hastily wiped the mess he’d left on the side of the glass he was holding, though he was sure nobody would notice at this time in the morning. “Nothing, darling.” He said eventually, with an exhausted little smile. “Just tired.”

“Why don’t you head home? I’m sure you’ve done more than enough for tonight.” He squeezed Freddie’s shoulder.

“Hundred and twenty tonight.” He rested his arms on the bar, just for a second, just to take the strain off his back. “Gotta put it towards the electric. They’re threatening to cut it again. They’ve already cut the gas.”

Roger rested a warm hand over the small of his back, and Freddie could’ve moaned with how good it felt against the muscles, so tight and so painful. “Are your parents not helping?”

“God, they are. Dad’s gone back to Heathrow as a fucking baggage boy, it’s practically crippling him. He can’t take up any more work. Mum’s doing laundry and mending clothes, but she barely scrapes a couple of pounds for each load, otherwise people take their shit elsewhere.” Freddie yawned. “Even Kash has started working in a bakery to try and help us out, even though she’s moved in with her boyfriend. He’s got a good job going, he keeps her happy.”

“Can’t you ask that boy of yours for a hand? It sounds like he’s got more than enough to spare.” Roger suggested.

“Are you crazy?” He stood up again, and his back cracked angrily. “That’s like suicide. I can’t marry a man I’m in debt to, I have to have something stable to bring him back to if I’m going to ask him to do that.” Freddie looked across the bar, a little wistful, and sighed.

“He’s here, isn’t he?” He asked quickly. “That’s what’s made you so sour.”

“No, no-” He bit his lip when he saw Roger’s eyes scan the crowd; they landed on a figure at the back, arms wound around another man.

“Ouch.” He murmured. “Is that-”

“They’re engaged.” Freddie muttered despairingly. “He said, if I can put in an offer before he gets married, he’ll try his best. He doesn’t want to marry him, he loves me.” He sighed. “But I’ve still got about four pounds and seventeen different debts to my name.”

“When’s the wedding?” He asked. “Can’t you just go and talk to them?”

“Like two months. His father hates me, every time I go to give him flowers and we spend a little time together, he yells at Jim for bringing disgrace on his union with Tom.” He sighed. “He calls me doggy. He says I’m always hanging around and begging for scraps. He once said that he’d leave the fish bones on the doorstep for me.” He looked away from Roger, feeling disgraced. “Once he packaged up all the food they didn’t want, the stuff that had gone out of date or was just bad, and he left it out, and I- I took it, Rog, I was so fucking hungry, we ate on it for like a week. But ever since I did that- I think he thinks I’m a joke.”

“What a bastard.” He murmured.

“His whole family are complete bastards.” He whispered. “But I- I still love him.”


	2. Snow Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A service provided, and paid for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH - this is like the beginning of fluorescent where the prologue comes in the middle of the story, so this goes back to the beginning!

“The snow’s coming down again.” David carried the tea-tray to the dining table, where Jim was busy slathering his toast in jam. “I’ll break my neck on that path one of these days.”

Jim poured two mugs and smiled, crossing his legs as he looked up at his father. “Can’t we get the housekeeper to clear the path?” He asked curiously. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself if you were on your way to work.”

“Christ, boy, she’s getting a little old for that.” He chuckled as he smoothed the paper out and took his own toast from the rack. “She’d break every bone in her body. No, I’ll have to get somebody in to do it.”

Jim leaned over the table and flicked his paper to the classifieds. “Can’t you pop something in here?” He suggested. “Somebody to shovel the snow, negotiable rate?”

“That’s not a bad idea.” He looked up and placed his glasses on the top of his head. “I’ll get one in the Standard this afternoon. We’ll get somebody to clear it before that man of yours comes around this evening.”

Jim’s cheeks flushed and he smiled. “That’ll be good. I don’t want Tom to break his neck coming here, either.”

“Definitely not!” He chuckled. “How am I ever supposed to get rid of you if I kill him off?”

“Hey!” Jim laughed. “Listen, I’ll take the advert in when I get the tube to work, how does that sound? I’ll pop your phone number down there so you can start taking calls straight away.”

“Dream boy.” He smiled at Jim. “Wonderful, I’ll try and get it all organised by the time you get home.”

* * *

The scarf around his neck was comfortable and warm, knitted by his mother in front of the fire as the weather had gotten colder and colder. She’d insisted he needed it if he was going to travel for miles each day, scrounging vegetables from farms, picking up coal from the road outside processing plants, coming home with a string bag of dead-end groceries he’d bought from corner shops that couldn’t sell them, bread with burned crusts, potatoes that were sprouting, or else were still green; anything they wouldn’t eat, they could plant, and it would be something else that they wouldn’t have to buy. 

As he got older, there was more and more pressure to start getting a job, instead of just his old little habits to help them get by. He sat with his father every morning over yesterday’s paper, looking for anything he could do - washing dishes for a rich family, pressing clothes, anything at all. 

He had planned to go from cafe to cafe, all around Leicester Square, looking for somebody who would take him on, would give him a few pounds an hour, even if he had to scrub the floor on his hands and knees. It was a tube journey away, fifty pence, but he knew it would be worth it if he could go home with something to be proud of.

He blew his hair out of his eyes and picked up a copy of the Standard, flicking immediately to the classifieds: he was disappointed, having been shut out and ignored, and he was desperate to have something, to make some kind of money. He scanned each advert - receptionists and personal assistants, jobs he could maybe consider once he’d scrounged enough to buy a smart shirt from a second-hand store, and then he lit up with happiness.

_ Boy needed to clear pathways in Chelsea Estate. Must be able to work this evening. _

He had fifty pence in his pocket, enough for the train home, but it was only an hour’s walk, and he considered it worth at least trying to call.

He ran down the road as quickly as he could, seeking out the phone box he know was on Long Acre; he pulled open the door and picked up the receiver, shoving his fifty pence piece in immediately and dialling the number from the advert.

“Hello?” The voice was low, tired, and Freddie presumed he was talking to an older man.

“Hello, sir.” He said, breathless, excited. “I’m calling about your advert in the Standard.”

“Oh, you can shovel snow?” He asked, brightening a little.

“Yes, sir.” He replied, unable to hide his smile. “As much as you need.”

“Do you have a shovel?” He asked, and the corners of Freddie’s mouth turned down.

“No, sir.” He murmured; all the gardening in his house was done with one rusty trowel.

“How much do you charge? If it’s not too high, I’ll get the housekeeper to find our one in the shed.” He offered. “So long as you can come quickly.”

“I can be there in an hour.” He said immediately. “I- I charge-” He faltered, unsure of what a reasonable rate was to shovel all the snow in an estate. “Ten pounds?”

It wasn’t much, and he knew it wasn’t much, but he could buy some fresh food for them to eat so long as he went to a different greengrocer, baker, and butcher who didn’t know him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“Ten pounds?” The man sounded aghast. “Oh, absolutely, that’s a good rate. Come as soon as you can. The housekeeper will open the gate for you.”

“What’s the address, sir?” He asked shyly.

“Oh!” He laughed. “The Boltons. It’s down by the river.”

“Thank you!” He leaned down to tie his shoelace, preparing for the walk. “I-” He started, but the tone sounded on the phone that told him he’d run out of money; he shrugged, suddenly so much happier, and put the receiver down.

* * *

Freddie had no idea that houses like this even existed; it seemed to tower far above him, made of frozen lakes and fountains, fish moved into tanks inside where they wouldn’t freeze to death. It was beautiful white brick, pristine and gorgeous, manicured hedges blanketed by snow, untouched by human hands. There were three sets of footprints in the snow, his own boots leaving black mud marks as he walked; he reminded himself to clear them when he’d finished.

He had agreed to clear the four paths from the main house; the grand entrance, the kitchen door for the housekeeper, the back door into the garden, and the door to the swimming pool. He was also clearing the front path from the outhouse, and the path from the back door; he’d even thrown in an offer to clear the winding path that curled around the garden, past the hot tub, right down to the summer house. 

He leaned on the shovel and blew out a hard breath as he dug up the snow, carefully piling it at the side of the pathway to create neat little ridges. He hummed as he worked, trying to keep himself warm, wondering if the old man who watched him from one of the upstairs windows would be kind enough to gift him a cup of tea at the end of it-

A warm hand, blanketed in a leather glove, rested on his back, and he felt a jolt of jealousy from his own, cold, cracked hands. He stood up straight and looked up, and his mouth fell open.

The man who stood across from him was beautiful; he couldn’t have been much older than Freddie, maybe twenty or twenty-one, his eyes glossy and green and his smooth hair falling so effortlessly over the curve of artfully manicured eyebrows, at a contrast to the sharp jawline in his pale skin. He was wearing a business suit with a wool jacket over the top, a briefcase in one hand, a pair of Hunter wellingtons keeping his feet dry: Freddie’s cold, wet toes ached with envy, and his whole body ached with admiration.

“You’re doing a good job at this.” He complimented and smiled, holding a hand out; his voice was beautiful, smooth and rich and thick with an Irish accent. “I’m Jim Hutton, I suppose you met my father?”

Freddie shook his gloved hand, suddenly embarrassed at the state of his own. “I spoke to him on the phone.” He said softly. “I met your housekeeper.”

“Oh, he’s not a big fan of the snow. He tries to stay indoors whenever he can.” He chuckled. “What’s your name?”

“Freddie.” He smiled shyly and leaned on the shovel a little, trying to relieve his sore back. “Freddie Bulsara. I live-” He faltered, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of a man so beautiful. “I live in Kensington.”

“Oh, so you’re close!” He smiled. “Gosh, you must be freezing out here. I can’t imagine ever doing something like this.”

“I don’t mind.” He ducked his head down, almost in reverence. “I like to help people.”

“You’re so sweet.” He chuckled. “I hope my father’s paying you well.”

“Ten pounds, sir. He’s being very generous.” He bit his lip.

“Are you just doing the front path, then?” He asked curiously.

“No, no, the whole estate. The outhouse and the garden and the side paths and everything.” He said quickly, not wanting this man to think he was scrounging pennies. 

“Ten pounds to do all this? Christ, he’d pay an agency in the hundreds!” He shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. Listen, I have to speak to him about that.” He said, attempting to excuse himself, but Freddie quickly reached out for his arm. The feeling of the warm wool under his fingers made him shiver.

“There’s no need to do that.” He said quickly. “I promise, we agreed, it’s fine.”

“Nonsense.” Jim walked the path, the stones crunching underfoot from where they’d been cleared from the snow. He scraped his boots along the  décrottoir and then left them on the mat; the housekeeper picked them up immediately for them to be cleaned. “Dad?”

“Hello, son!” He smiled and came down the stairs. “I’ve just been watching that boy on the path. He’s awfully good, isn’t he?”

“You’re paying him ten pounds, I’d be forgiven for thinking you thought he wasn’t worth the oxygen he breathed.” He replied curtly.

“You’re turning into such a socialist.” He chuckled, voice full of humour. 

“I’m being serious!” He hung up his coat and turned to him. “Come on, you pay hundreds for people to do this.”

“He said he charged ten pounds. I agreed the price he proposed.” He shrugged.

“Come on, you know you should be more fair than that.” He crossed his arms. “You could at least pay him fifty. It’s practically pitch black outside, it’s freezing, and he’s still going for it.”

“It’s a good job you’re going into banking. You’d be a terrible businessman.” He shook his head and laughed again. “It’s the rules of business.”

“It’s the rules of being a tight-ass.” He frowned. “Offer him more.”

“Christ, have you got an eye on this kid, or something?” He asked. “Fine. If it makes you happy, I’ll offer him seventy-five.”

“That’s much better.” Jim started to smile. “You know I hate it when we scrounge, Dad. We can afford to make people happy.”

David walked up to the door and opened it again, whistling as the cold air bit at his cheeks. “Hey, kid?” He called, watching as Freddie came over obediently. “He’s like a puppy, isn’t he?” He murmured to Jim.

“Dad-” He warned. 

“I’m kidding!” He insisted. “Jim thinks that the charge we agreed should be changed. Would you take seventy-five for the whole job?”

Freddie’s eyes went wide and he smiled hopefully. “I would like that very much, sir.” He replied politely, his eyes flickering between the old man and his son. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Jim butted in before his father could speak. “Knock on the side door when you’ve finished. You can have a shower up in my bathroom before you go, you’ll be freezing and you don’t need to be catching a cold on your way home.”

Freddie’s eyes widened; they shared bath water between the four of them to save money, and they never took showers. “Thank you, sir.” He repeated, cheeks flushed with delight.

* * *

It was past nine at night by the time he’d finished the job, and he was shivering; his teeth were chattering, his sweater was soaked through with the snow, his boots were sodden, and his hands were aching with the cold. The thought of the money, though, kept him warm; he knew he’d feel so proud of himself when he handed the money over to his father that night. He slowly raised his hand to the door, knocking carefully, checking he didn’t leave blood on the glass; he had cut his palm open on the wooden handle of the shovel some time on his fourth path, but he knew he’d have the time to clean it when he took his shower.

Jim opened the door, and the sight of the boy in front of him, dressed in sodden rags, made his heart ache. “God, come in, come in, you’ll catch your death out there.”

He wound his arms around his shoulder and Freddie stood in the little foyer, immediately kicking his shoes off so that he wouldn’t leave mud around the house. “Thank you.” He laughed, rubbing his hands down his arms to try and warm himself up. “I finished the shovelling.”

“I’ve been watching you. I’m surprised a little thing like you had the stamina to finish something like that, especially without your dinner.” He guided him into the kitchen. “Speaking of which, can I offer you anything? Tea, a sandwich, I think we’ve got some leftovers from dinner if you want me to heat anything for you-” He faltered and laughed. “I’d offer to cook, but I don’t really know how.”

Freddie was astounded by the man’s kindness and generosity towards him. “If you wouldn’t mind.” He said softly.

“Of course I wouldn’t mind! If I minded, I wouldn’t have offered.” He flicked the kettle on. “We had jambalaya, I’m pretty sure there’s some still under the grill. Would you like it if I showed you the shower, and then when you’re done, I can have it hot for you?”

Freddie’s cheeks flushed, though he was surprised he had the blood to do it. “You really don’t have to do all of this.” He insisted.

“You’ve been shovelling snow for five hours, you’re cold, you’re wet, and you’re probably hungry.” He shook his head. “I can’t just leave you like that to go home. Now, come with me, I’ll get you some dry clothes and you can take a shower.”

“You don’t have to give me clothes!” He squeaked.

“You’re the same size as I was about two years ago, I’ve got plenty of stuff I’ve been meaning to throw out anyway.” Jim led him up the stairs - beautiful winding stairs, Freddie noticed, so enthralled by the beauty and the warmth of the house around him. 

The shower was so warm, so good against his skin, and he took the chance to scrub through his hair with borrowed shampoo; he cleaned his face, his body, and even washed the cuts on his hand. He got dressed in his borrowed clothes - the jeans clasped perfectly around his waist, which surprised him, and the sweater was warm and woolen and nothing like anything he’d ever worn before. 

When he padded downstairs, his food was steaming on the counter, next to a pot of tea with a little decanter of milk and sugar. “You’re too kind.” He protested.

“Oh, shush!” Jim laughed, pouring himself a mug. “Honestly, you make me think that nobody’s ever done anything nice for you.”

Freddie blushed a little and sat down, picking up his fork; his stomach grumbled loudly at the smell of the food alone, and he found that he ate the bowl more quickly than he even thought was possible. 

“I got the housekeeper to dry off your boots, so they should be okay for you to wear home. You can keep those clothes, I was going to get rid of them anyway.” He shrugged. “And besides, they’re good jeans, I’m sad I can’t wear them anymore, but I just bought a new pair in my size so I don’t need them anymore.”

Freddie wondered what kind of luxury it was to throw out clothes so wantonly.

“I’ll keep an eye out and I’ll see if it snows again.” He said eventually, once he’d finally gotten an idea of something to say. “I’ll come first thing in the morning if I see it has. Tell your father that I’ll take ten pounds next time.”

“Oh, don’t tell him that, he’s a scoundrel!” He rolled his eyes. “You’ve done a good job. I’ll make sure you get fifty.”

“Oh, I don’t-”

“Shush!” Jim laughed, pouring Freddie a mug of tea. “I’ll make you realise what you’re worth. Now, do you like milk and sugar?”

“A lot of milk.” He started to smile begrudgingly. “And two sugars.”


	3. Bechstein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He isn't the face of the poor, down and out, downtrodden. He has dreams, ambitions, and he's been so close he can taste them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will learn more about Jim soon, I promise!
> 
> This is set circa 1975/6, just to note!

“Freddie, what are you doing?” Bomi looked up from the paper quickly when he heard the clatter of worn-out boot soles hitting the lounge floor. “It’s only seven in the morning, where are you going?”

“It snowed last night.” Freddie looked up, sounding breathless, his hair falling in his eyes; he blew it out of his face agitatedly. “I promised I’d go back to that house again if it snowed. I need to get there before someone else does.”

“We haven’t got anything for your breakfast.” Jer worried her lip between her teeth. “You can’t do such a big job on water.”

“Sure I can.” He sent her a dazzling smile, his best performer’s smile, and stood up quickly. He dropped a kiss on her cheek as he grabbed a jacket from the hallway, an old one, several sizes too big and made of ripped and patched leather. “If I get it done quickly, I’ll bring home something we can all have for lunch.”

“Hopefully he pays you as well this time as he did last time.” Bomi smiled up at him. “I wonder what I did to deserve such a hardworking boy?”

Freddie’s cheeks coloured and he grinned, looking oh-so-young and childlike. “Love you, Pa.” He said softly. “Can I take the jacket? I got all wet last time, it was so cold.”

“Of course, of course.” He agreed. “I haven’t got any interviews today. I’ll go knocking doors once it gets light out.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He promised. “I might even be able to pick up breakfast while I’m there, if he offers me anything. It’s one less thing for you to worry about.”

Jer cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, darling.” She said softly. “And I’m proud of you, okay?”

“I love you too, Ma.” Freddie smiled demurely and shrugged the heavy jacket on. “I’ll be home soon!”

* * *

“Who the hell calls at this time in the morning?” David put down the teapot and turned to Jim. “It isn’t that gentleman of yours, is it?”

“Tom always calls before he comes.” Jim replied simply. “Nothing to do with me.”

“Go and help out Liza, won’t you? You know she’s terrible at getting rid of people.” He smoothed out the paper. “And for the love of God, don’t give them money. They’ll come back every day for the rest of their lives.”

Jim stood up and retrieved his coat from the hook by the door. “Okay, Dad.” He chuckled.

His boots crunched in the fresh snow on the path; he mourned the cleanliness of the previous day, just for a moment, feeling a nostalgia for the days when he didn’t risk breaking his neck. Liza was stood at the gate, all bundled in fur, talking to a boy the other side of the cast iron - a boy Jim recognised from somewhere, he thought, the face struck a memory in his mind-

“Sir!” The boy’s voice was so familiar, familiar from the thousand ways he’d tried to turn down little gestures of support-

It was the boy who had shovelled the path.

Jim had watched him, last time, watched the way his small body hunched and extended with each heavy shovel of snow, watched the way the steam from his breath condensed in the freezing winter air, watched the way his thin sweater had clung to him with sweat and water, leaving him shivering as he tried to clear the last of the snow despite the cold and the exhaustion he felt. He had watched him as he’d taken the food and tea offered, hands raw and ridged with bones, cheekbones sunken, looking so hungry and so hopeful.

Though he had watched, he hadn’t allowed himself to look before.

He didn’t look at other men; he had a man of his own, a man who offered him his arm as they walked together, a man who could shake a margarita perfectly, a man who knew fourteen different types of wine and what vintage would suit each meal perfectly. He had a man who had taken him to Fiji and Paris and New York City, who had bought him expensive treats, who had bought them silken sheets to sleep between to ensure that his lover was as comfortable as could be - sheets that crackled under his back when they made love, bathed in candlelight. He had a lover, a lover he had always been faithful to, even in his moments of doubt, the moments where he wondered if there was anything more to life than expensive champagne, rooftop bars and parties. 

He couldn’t help but look at the boy, the boy who was dressed in ragged jeans, a paper thin shirt, and a leather jacket, tattered and torn, that had been repaired a hundred times over. He couldn’t help but look at the boy who needed a haircut, whose curls hung down over his eyes and hid the almost frightening jut of his jawline. He couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes were still wide, hopeful, open, loving; Jim wondered if in another life, he’d be a fairytale prince.

“I told you I’d come back if it snowed again.” He smiled hopefully at Jim, twisting his hands inside the cuffs of his jacket. “First thing, remember, so your father didn’t slip on his way to work.”

Jim was caught by his thoughtfulness; he’d assumed it was an empty gesture after so many hours of hard work, something he’d never want to repeat. “I remember.” He drew his coat around him a little further to beat away the biting mouths of the winter wind; he wondered how the boy managed to look so calm in such temperatures, wearing so little. “I’m surprised you came back.”

“You were awfully good to me.” His smile was toothy, and Jim felt just something pull in his chest; most of his social circle revolved around the City, else rich acquaintances who knew more about Moët and Chandon than they knew about understanding others’ emotions. He wasn’t used to people being so earnest, so grateful for the smallest kindness. In his world, he’d expect dinner and champagne if he chose to call in on an old friend, no matter whether he’d been invited or otherwise: offering reheated leftovers and a cup of tea seemed like the bare minimum. “I wanted to repay the favour. I thought I could clear it a little quicker again for you, it’s not so deep this time.” He continued.

“The job you did last time was so good that the snow didn’t settle at first, even when it started blowing a gale outside.” Jim leaned over to press the button on the gate. “Liza, why don’t you go inside? I imagine breakfast will be burning by now.” He chuckled, voice full of warmth, and she deferred with a little  _ yes, sir.  _

“So you’d like me to?” The boy persisted, taking shelter by the wall, where the breeze wasn’t so aggressive; it caught the ends of Jim’s hair and slicked them back, smooth as water. 

“I’d love you to.” He agreed. “Hundred and fifty for the lot.”

Freddie’s eyes widened; seventy-five had been a luxury, enough to pay off the debt at the baker, and enough to buy meat that wasn’t more bone and gristle than it was edible parts. It had bought wood for the fire that hadn’t smoked, and his mother had proudly hung her laundry over the fire screen to dry when it hadn’t turned black with soot. It had even paid back part of the gas bill, so they had been able to cook on the hob again; food had tasted so much better when it was hot.

Freddie didn’t think they’d had a hundred and fifty pounds between them for the last few years.

“You don’t need to do that, sir.” He stammered quickly; he was immediately frightened it was a joke. “Seventy-five, we agreed last time.”

“We had an agency assess it, and they said three-fifty, so giving you a hundred and fifty is still daylight robbery. We agreed it when you finished last time. Dad was impressed that you didn’t crush a single one of his flowers when you worked.” Jim rubbed his hands together; his fingertips were turning blue from the cold. Once glance at the boy’s, and he saw they were purple. “You better get to it quickly, you’ll freeze to death out here. The shovel’s by the foyer you came in through last time.”

“Of course.” He smiled, almost aghast at the money these men had to throw around. “Knock when I’m done?”

“Please.” Jim crunched back up the path and Freddie followed quickly, seizing the shovel to get to work.

* * *

He wondered if he was getting stronger, or if the job felt easier when it was early in the morning and he had the promise of a hundred and fifty pounds to take home. When his stomach grumbled angrily - it had been less than a day without food, he reminded himself, and he’d done a lot longer in his time - he merely pressed a fist to it, pushing down until it quietened, blew out a hard breath, and continued. The thought of the food he could buy with a hundred and fifty pounds made him dizzy with excitement - curries, spices, vegetables and meats to fill his aching stomach, malido for dessert, fudge, chocolate, enough sugar to rot his teeth…

He looked up the path and smiled; when he stopped working, he started shivering, and so he went back to work until his arms were aching, and the paths were clear.

He leaned the shovel up against the wall, leaned down to retie his shoelace, and stood up quickly; he stumbled just a little when his vision turned fuzzy, and shook his head to try and clear it. He knocked on the door and leaned his head to one side, listening to his neck crack; he shuffled from one foot to another as he listened to the noise inside.

“Is that your boy again?” A voice asked, disgruntled. “Doesn’t he know we’re having breakfast?”

“Honestly, Dad.” Jim rolled his eyes. “He’s cleared all the paths for us, you could be a bit more grateful.”

“He can wait outside until we’re finished. It’s rude to interrupt.” He insisted.

“God, you can be so old, sometimes.” Jim stood up and folded his napkin next to his plate. “I’m finished anyway.”

“Don’t bring him anywhere near the dining room!” He called after Jim. “I’m not having wet footprints on the cashmere!”

He flung the door open, and Freddie sent him a hopeful, cold smile. “It’s all done.” He promised through chattering teeth.

“One of these days you’ll die in my garden.” Jim grabbed an old cardigan from the coat rack and helped him to strip out of the wet jacket, draping him in the warm wool. Freddie left his boots outside and even stripped off his socks, dragging his bare feet over the door mat just to make sure he wouldn’t leave a trace of any water on the floor. “You’re always so cold!”

“I’m used to it.” Freddie chuckled, pulling the cardigan around his shoulders. His stomach grumbled loudly and his cheeks flushed, surreptitiously pushing a hand against it and thinking again of the lunch he’d make, sweet potatoes, lamb from the butcher, star anise and aubergine and garam masala- “I walk almost everywhere.”

“I can imagine, from those boots.” Jim couldn’t seem to drag his eyes from the boy’s beauty. His eyes fell from Jim’s when he started to feel uncomfortable, his gaze shifting to his bare feet; he could only imagine how much of a mess he looked, dressed in the best he could muster, sodden again and finally starting to cease in his shivering. “Listen, do you-” Jim faltered. “Can I get you any breakfast?”

Jim wondered if the bones in his shoulders were supposed to stick out like that, even through his cardigan; he wondered if he even heard the rumble of his stomach anymore. “We had French toast.” He said quickly. “I can make you some, I mean, I know I said I was a terrible cook, but it’s about the only thing I have mastered.”

Freddie glanced back up at him shyly, feeling so embarrassed to be so hungry in front of a man who had clearly never gone without anything in his life. “You- you’d do that?” He asked softly.

“You’re probably hungry after all that work.” Jim said, trying to make him feel less embarrassed; he suddenly kicked himself out of his trance when the boy started to smile. “Okay, do you like sweet or savoury? We’ve got chocolate, strawberries, I can put peanut butter in it, or do you prefer coconut? I can do savoury if you’d prefer, eggs and bacon and anything like that, whatever you want. And I know you like tea, you had that last time, but I realised I didn’t offer you any type, I just assumed you wanted English breakfast, but we’ve got Earl Grey, we’ve got chamomile or green if you’d rather, I really don’t mind.”

His cheeks flushed when he realised he was acting like a boy trying to impress his first crush, and Freddie’s mouth fell open at the thought of such rich food, food he’d never even tasted before. “What’s your favourite?” He asked softly.

“I always get s’mores stuffed.” He smiled. “Chocolate and marshmallow and biscuit.”

“Oh my God.” Freddie murmured. “Can I- can I try it?”

Jim was glad he’d chosen one he had definitely made before. “Yeah, yeah, come through to the kitchen.” He led him in and Freddie sat at one of the barstools, taking the time to admire the room. “Tea?” He prompted.

“I like Earl Grey.” He smiled shyly; it was always his mother’s treat for him. 

Jim filled up the kettle with water and set it on the stove. “I never got Earl Grey.” He chuckled. “Too citrusy for me.”

“Oh, we don’t-” Freddie squeaked quickly. “We don’t have to have it, I mean, I like English breakfast too, I don’t mind-”

“You can have your own pot!” Jim smiled. “I’ll make myself an English breakfast. I could drink tea until it went out of fashion.”

Freddie smiled and hugged his knees; the heat from the oven, still warm, thawed out his cold bones and started to dry his clothes. “You’re so kind.” He said softly.

“I’d want someone to be nice to me if I’d done all the work you have.” Jim chuckled. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself while I make this?”

“About me?” He bit his lip. “There’s not much to say. I’m Freddie Bulsara, I’m twenty, and I- I’m looking for a job, I suppose.”

“Hobbies?” Jim prompted. “Achievements?”

“Hobbies?” He gulped. “I- I don’t really have time anymore. I’m always working.”

Jim frowned. “What were your hobbies?”

“I like to sing.” He smiled shyly; sometimes, even just with that word, the heat and noise of the stage came back to him, the crowds, the screaming, the sore throat and the honey and lemon the next morning, meetings hungover, nights playing a piano that had been sold along with almost everything else in his house.

“Singing is cool!” Jim enthused. “Were you in a band, or..?”

“Yeah, I was.” He smiled wryly at his hands.

“Did it not get off the ground?” He asked. “It seems odd to be shovelling snow now.”

“Two top ten albums.” He blurted out, though his cheeks coloured. “We were successful. We were also fucked over.”

Jim grinned when he saw he was cracking the subservient façade that Freddie had always put up. “What happened?” He questioned, softening his voice a little.

“Management.” He deflated a little. “We released three albums and went on tour and didn’t earn a penny out of it. I paid for all the recording time, everything, and they just kept asking for more and more until there was nothing else left to give them.”

Jim went quiet for a few moments. “Is that why you’re..?”

“Starving?” Freddie filled in. “Poor? Shovelling your snow?” He sighed. “Something like that.”

“So you haven’t always been like this?” He questioned.

“We’ve never been rich.” Freddie rested his chin on his hand; something about the way he questioned made him want to tell him everything and more. “But we managed. And then, we took all the money out of savings to pay for the records, and we earned nothing, and my father lost his job, and then it just- it spiralled as we sold everything, absolutely everything.” He looked down at his hands. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Can’t you get new management?” Jim asked naïvely. “Release a new album, or something?”

“Oh, we’re disgraced. Nobody wants to come within a hundred feet of us.” Freddie sighed. “I’d give anything to have it back.”

* * *

It was gone midday, and Jim was supposed to be at work, and he definitely wasn’t supposed to be up in his bedroom with a new boy, letting him wander around, look at things, touch things, indulge in luxury that had been so close, once upon a time. He thumbed silk sheets, looked in polished Venetian mirrors, gently stroked the white ivory of a Bechstein piano, painted cream to match the cashmere carpets that were soft against his toes, and the walls that he was afraid to bump against.

“Do you play?” Jim asked, sitting back on the sofa in his room and watching him. He seemed a new person with two hundred pounds tucked up safely in his back pocket - Jim had claimed it was a tip for the service, but Freddie was sure it was something to do with the guilt the rich sometimes felt towards him. 

“I do.” Freddie glanced at him and smiled. “I used to have my own, when it was going well.”

“Play for me.” He said immediately. “I’ve always wanted to hear somebody who knows what they’re doing play.”

“Can’t you play?” Freddie asked, wondering why else he’d have a piano in his room.

“Oh, odds and ends.” He shrugged. “Please, play.”

He sat down on the cream bench, praying he wouldn’t leave sooty marks where he sat, and raised the lid over the keys gently. “What would you like me to play?”

“I don’t mind.” He insisted. “Something you wrote.”

Freddie paused and smiled. “Angry, or sweet? Or playful?”

“I really don’t mind.” Jim repeated. “Whatever you’d like to play.”

A few songs flickered through his mind, songs Jim might recognise from the radio, songs that were trusty from years of playing them on smoky stages-

But he settled on something a little closer to his heart.

He cleared his throat and then smiled. “I’ll play Rhapsody.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lily, writing something related to music? Who am I?


	4. Cold Compress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The right face, at the right moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim background!

The fresh gloves creaked as he flexed and curled his fingers, squeezing his lover’s bicep as he did so; they walked quietly, peacefully, through the streets of metropolitan London. It was a quieter day, if there had ever been such a thing in Jim’s life: the snow was still fresh on the ground, his coffee had tasted better than usual when he picked it up from its special coaster on his desk, and his clients had all had wind-bitten cheeks and smiles on their faces. He clasped a takeaway cup with one hand, his name written in cursive down the side, spiced with vanilla, a winter’s luxury. Whenever he kissed his lover, he tasted of hazelnut.

“It’s lovely of you to pick me up from work.” He said, watching the words of his adoration as they condensed in the evening air. “I didn’t realise you were in town.”

“I’m off to San Francisco tomorrow.” The kiss on his temple was warm and gentle, and Jim smiled. “Business meetings, as always.”

“You work too hard. I feel I hardly see you these days.” Jim rested his head against his shoulder for a moment as they walked. “How long have you been back from the last one?”

“Three days.” He chuckled, voice full of warmth. “Clients pay more for you if you go to their offices. I’m trying to make a name for myself.”

“I know, darling, I know.” Jim soothed; he noted a boy out of the corner of his eye, talking to the man who ran the greengrocer’s stall on the corner of the street. He had felt, ever since he’d met the boy with dreams too big to fit in a little body, and a littler purse yet, that he’d started noticing the little things. Instead of being absorbed by the constant conversation in his head, there repeated the haunting melody he’d played on his Bechstein; it accompanied both the smile the boy wore as he purchased squash and clementines, and the melancholic sadness as he shivered in the frigid air. He noticed everything, smiles and frowns, the men desperately thrusting paper cups under his fingers when he drew out his wallet to pay for something - something, he considered, which was most likely an unnecessary luxury. “Do you ever think there’s more to life?” He asked, watching the imprint of his boot in the snow. “You know, than what we have?”

“What more could you possibly want?” Tom laughed. “Are silk sheets and trips all over the world not enough to keep you satisfied?”

“But do you-” He stammered, unsure of how to tell the story. “What do you feel about those things?”

“Feel?” He repeated. “Well, I don’t suppose I feel too much about them. I have them because I deserve them, I worked for them.”

“Surely everybody deserves a little luxury from time to time.” He murmured wistfully.

“Oh, darling, you are a sweetheart.” He chuckled. “People deserve what they work for. If they work hard, they deserve to have nice things like Bechstein pianos and cashmere carpets. If they can’t be bothered to work, then let them eat gruel.”

“It doesn’t always work out like that.” He protested.

“Doesn’t it?” He challenged. “Why, who are you thinking of?”

Jim was quiet for a moment, and his cheeks reddened noticeably. “There’s this boy…” He trailed off.

“Replacing me already?” Tom chuckled, though Jim noted the way his arm slipped around to protectively wrap around his waist.

“No, no.” He smiled awkwardly. “No, we got him in to clear the paths, is all. But he- I’m afraid he’s starving, darling. He was telling me all about what happened in his life, and it all seemed terribly unfair.”

“And I trust you paid him well?” He questioned.

“Of course.” Jim said immediately. “Dad was going to have him working for practically nothing, so I made sure he got a good wage.”

“And the better wages he earns, the less likely he is to starve. It’s the way of life, dear.” Tom pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re too empathetic. Maybe one day you’ll make a good philanthropist.” 

“It just seems unfair that he was born into a family that can’t support him, but I’ve got my father, and I’ve obviously got you, too, and I don’t really have to lift a finger if I don’t want to.” He shrugged, looking down at the snow.

“He’s just tugging on your conscience, darling. The more guilty you feel, the more likely you are to give him more cash. Half the story he told you probably isn’t true.” He suddenly steered him into the doorway of an expensive restaurant, his smile wide. “Now, baby, stop thinking about poor boys, and start enjoying yourself.”

* * *

_“Mama!” Freddie clattered up the stairs, his hair wet from the snow, his jacket soaked through, shivering and yet oh-so-excited as he ran up to his front door, banging on it. “Mama, Mama, let me in!”_

_She opened it quickly, worried by his insistence, but her eyes widened at the sight of the bag in his hand and the bright smile on his face. “Look!” He said breathlessly, handing her the bag. “I bought the things we needed for akuri.”_

_She cupped both his cheeks and kissed his forehead. “Oh, darling, you didn’t have to do that!”_

_“What’s he done?” Bomi asked, coming up behind her._

_“I bought our favourite.” He smiled shyly, his cheeks reddening. “I thought Mama might want to cook with some proper food, for once.”_

_Bomi ruffled his hair and Freddie grinned back at him. “You’ve been gone for hours. I was starting to think you might have broken your back or frozen to death.”_

_“No.” Freddie chuckled as he shut the door behind him and immediately went and sat in front of the fire. “Pa, look at this.”_

_His father knelt beside him and Freddie pulled out the notes that he’d tucked safely in the jacket pocket; they were just beginning to curl around the edges, a little damp, but Freddie knew they would dry out in the hot little room. “A hundred and ninety-five.” He said softly. “I spent five pounds on the food, I thought you wouldn’t mind.”_

_Bomi kissed his temple, unable to stop himself from smiling. “You’re a little angel.” He replied. “How did you earn so much?”_

_“They liked the job I did last time. They had it assessed and an agency said they’d charge three-fifty, so even giving me two hundred was a big discount for them.” He explained, resting his chin on his knees. “And the man cooked me breakfast when I was done.”_

_“Sounds like you’re getting in with the best families in Chelsea.” Bomi flicked through the notes himself, quickly counting. “This is- God, darling, this is incredible.”_

_“I think you’d really like the man I’ve been talking to.” Freddie’s cheeks flushed a little, though he hoped it just seemed like the heat from the fire. “He’s been so lovely to me. I didn’t know rich people were like that.”_

_“Only a few, darling. Make the most of it.” Bomi put the money down and focused on his son. “What’s he like?”_

_“He’s very pretty.” Freddie’s voice came out a little more shy, molten and sweet. “He works in finance in the City, and he still lives with his dad, and he’s twenty-one. And he can’t cook anything except French toast.” He laughed a little. “He’s got a Bechstein in his bedroom.”_

_Bomi whistled. “Why were you in his bedroom?” He asked, arching a playful eyebrow._

_Freddie’s mouth fell open a little. “No!” He squeaked. “Nothing like that, he was just- he was giving me a tour of the house. He seems a little lonely, he kept making excuses for me to stay even when I told him I had to come home to you.”_

_“Sounds like he likes what he sees.” He teased fondly._

_“He’s got a boyfriend. I mean, he didn’t say anything about it, but he’s got photos beside his bed where he’s with another guy who looks a little older than him. They were kissing in one of the photos.” Freddie blushed. “Anyway, he was just nice to me.”_

_“And you do have a tendency to fall in love with anybody who gives you a pretty enough smile.” Bomi chuckled and stood up. “What could you do for them, besides shovelling the snow?”_

_“What?” Freddie asked dumbly._

_“Well, do they need any help around the house?” He suggested._

_“They have a housekeeper.” He bit his lip._

_Bomi rolled his eyes. “Of course they do. Well, could you do some shopping for them? Or run errands for them?”_

_“How do I ask that?” He asked softly._

_“Just go and see them. Say you were passing by and see if there’s anything they need doing.” He shrugged. “What’s the worst that can happen?”_

* * *

He didn’t care if he was fully clothed; he lay under his duvet, tugged the whole way over his head, shuddering breaths just beginning to slow, tears beginning to dry. He felt as though he could sulk away the whole day just staring at the wall and repeating the conversation over and over in his head, worthless insults thrown back and forth.

He tried to placate himself, knowing there would be roses delivered in a few days, knowing there would be soft kisses and making love in an attempt to plaster over the cracks- he held out for those days, the happy days, the days he mattered.

“Jim?” Liza knocked gently on the door.

“Fuck off!” He yelled, momentarily feeling guilty for taking his own emotions out on her. 

“There’s somebody here to see you.” She continued softly. “Your father’s out, so he can’t receive him.”

His attention piqued; it was either a business call of his father’s, allowing him to distract himself, or else it could be Tom already, Tom abandoning his flight to make it up to him, to show he meant something to him after all-

He stood up and wiped off his eyes on the corner of his sheet, glancing at himself in the mirror - his eyes were swollen and his skin was flushed from crying, and his face felt as though it had been radiating heat. “One mi-” He started, but his door cracked open a little.

“Is now a bad time?” The boy - the fucking beautiful boy, the boy that seemed to change how he saw the world, how he wanted to live, how he wanted to be treated - stood in his doorway, fingers threaded together nervously. “I can- I can come back, I didn’t realise you were- were-”

All the breath seemed to leave Jim’s body in a rush, and he found himself laughing a little at himself, at the situation, at whatever cruel joke the universe was playing on him. “It’s not a bad time.” He said eventually, holding the backs of his cold fingers to his hot cheeks. “I didn’t know it had snowed again.” He turned to his closed curtain and twitched it open a little. 

“It hasn’t.” He said shyly, still stood in the doorway. “I just- I thought I’d come along to see if there was anything else you needed doing. I thought, you know, you like how I do things, and I think you’re a nice family, and so I thought, I thought I’d just let you know that I can do any odd-jobs you need doing.”

Jim watched him for a moment and then sat down on the edge of his bed. “And it’s nothing to do with the money?”

Freddie blushed and looked down, ashamed. “I can’t deny that you don’t pay well, sir.” He murmured.

“Don’t call me that, please. It makes me sound so- so-” He faltered. “I don’t know. It’s like you’re saying I’m better than you, or something. It’s not fair on you.”

“I-” Freddie stammered, not sure how to respond. “Would you like me to go?”

“No.” He stood up again, restless, and spontaneously took Freddie’s hands. “I like you, Freddie. I’d rather you treated me as a friend.”

“I thought you didn’t even know my name.” Freddie laughed a little, shy, but his eyes looked brighter as they met Jim’s. 

“I don’t know your last name. I just remember you telling me that you were called Freddie.” He said honestly. “God, your hands are cold.”

“Freddie Bulsara.” He reminded him, glancing at their hands. “They’re always cold. It’s cold outside.”

“No, but they’re purple. Even cold hands don’t go purple.” He took one of Freddie’s hands between both of his and rubbed it a little.

Freddie blushed, a little embarrassed. “I think it’s a circulation thing.” He mumbled. “Are you okay, darling? Speaking of purple, your eyes look sore.”

The weight of the conversation fell back down on his shoulders and he paused, and then sighed. “Not really.” He admitted.

“What happened?” He asked gently. “Do you want me to help with the swelling?”

“Is there anything you can do?” He questioned, letting Freddie lead him to the bathroom.

“A cold compress works wonders.” Freddie grabbed a cloth and ran it under the cold tap, before wringing it out. “Pat it under your eyes.”

Jim did as he was told, sitting up on the counter. “I had an argument with my boyfriend.” He admitted eventually.

Freddie frowned and gently squeezed his arm. “Why, what about?” He asked softly.

“Oh, he’s this- this fucking high flyer in his business, they send him all over the world to do God-knows-what.” He muttered bitterly. “He’s in San Francisco. But he’s out of the country more often than he’s in the country, and he- whenever he’s away, he kind of made me agree that our relationship can be open in those times. Because he can be away for months at a time, sometimes, and he- he gets an itch he has to scratch, you know? But I’m always stuck in fucking London, and everyone knows we’re together, so no one comes within fifteen miles of me. It just feels fucking lonely sometimes, and then he complains that I’m being whiney and needy just because I tell him that I feel like I haven’t seen him in a while and I want him to come home for a weekend.”

Freddie stood quietly for a moment, gently rubbing his arm, and then sighed. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly.

Jim looked in the mirror, surprised to see how well the redness had gone down. “We just keep getting to this point where he, he says I’m being a total bitch, and he says I just don’t try hard enough, but I’m fucking trying. I just don’t know how to make him see that I’m trying.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to see it.” Freddie said softly.

Jim looked over at him immediately. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe it’s easier for him to do what he’s doing if he doesn’t think about you being here and waiting for him.” Freddie shrugged. “I mean, I could be wrong, but-”

“No, that makes a lot of sense.” He agreed. “I don’t know, we’re supposed to be getting married, but I- I sometimes wonder if we should pack it all in, and then I feel guilty for thinking that. We were childhood sweethearts, and he loves to remind everyone of that, and I feel- I don’t know, like I don’t want to ruin his credentials, or whatever.”

“That’s not your responsibility.” Freddie came a little closer. “He’s the only person that can ruin himself. It’s not your job to keep him looking pristine when he’s not.”

“I just end up making myself look like a mug.” Jim sighed. “I don’t know. I’ll work it out.”

* * *

There was something in his eyes that made Jim want to stop and stare; he watched as he studied the painting in their dining room, lips muttering something softly, inaudible. He raised a finger to touch the canvas just gently, feeling the smooth finish of the paint, and then watched as he smiled.

The boy - Freddie, he wouldn’t be nameless, Jim was determined. Freddie seemed so beautiful as he stood in the centre of his house, cheeks flushed with warmth, lips soft, pink, gently parted, curls falling down over his shoulders; he seemed so ethereal as graceful fingers, long and delicate, traced long lines over the canvas, bird bones in fragile wrists. He seemed to find a strength in beauty, in grace, in elegance; he was nurtured on the works of Mozart on an old gramophone, by pieces of expensive artwork on the wall, by the feeling of the heavy cashmere jumper that Jim had insisted he wore. As Jim watched, he swore that if he had extended his arms, he could’ve been mistaken for an angel as he stood there in his dining room, the distended light from the snow painting him the same white. 

“Have you seen this?” He asked, voice soft, as he leaned in closer. “There’s a reflection in the jug in this painting?”

“A reflection?” Jim asked, coming closer; he allowed his fingers to touch the soft skin of his forearm, just briefly, just enough to make electricity crackle between his fingertips. “A reflection of what?”

Freddie glanced up at the figure in the painting again - Dionysius, he was sure - and then bit his lip. “I think it’s a reflection of the painter. Like he can see his own image in the jug as he paints.”

Jim looked closer and then smiled. “God, you’re right.” He smiled. “I’ve never looked close enough. I don’t understand art.”

“There’s nothing to understand, that’s your problem.” Freddie chuckled. “You just have to appreciate it.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.” Jim prompted.

“Not really. I just like it. I like everything classical.” Freddie glanced over at him; when he caught his eyes, he looked away quickly, blushing. “Art, literature, music, you know. I like languages, too. I can speak five.”

“You’re like the perfect son for a house like this. I was always hopeless with those things.” Jim chuckled. “Which languages?”

“English and French, because they’re the romance languages, and then Hindi, Swahili, and Persian.” Freddie smiled. “I want to learn Latin, too, but I don’t seem to have the time anymore.”

  
  
“Couldn’t you get a proper job?” Jim asked, sitting beside him on the edge of the table; their thighs were pressed together, and he couldn’t help if his heart began beating a little faster. “You might have more time to yourself if you don’t have to keep looking for odd jobs.”

“Nowhere’s hiring. The recession’s a bitch.” He shrugged. “I’d like to work in a bar, something like that. I heard the money’s decent if you stick it out.”

“One of my friends owns a bar over in Charing Cross.” Jim said immediately. “Listen, I’ll talk to him, okay? And in the meantime-” He faltered and bit his lip. “Are you okay for everything?”

Freddie arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, your hands-” He started shyly. “You- you go hungry a lot, don’t you?”

“Christ, is it that obvious?” He asked, bundling his hands up inside the sleeves of the sweater in embarrassment. “It’s just winter, it’s harder to get work. I’m fine.” He promised.

“No, I promise, I can-” He leapt up and went over to the coat rack, pulling out his wallet and thumbing out a hundred pounds. “I want you to take this.”

Freddie wasn’t about to turn down money, but he shot Jim a confused look as he did. “Why?”

“Well, you probably would’ve been working if I hadn’t kept you here.” Jim justified. “I stopped you from being able to earn anything.”

“I’m not a rent-boy. You don’t have to pay for my time.” Freddie chuckled, but he put the money in his jeans regardless.

“No, of course not. I just don’t like the idea of you missing out because of me.” Jim glanced up at the clock. “Will you come and see me again? I like spending time with you.”

Freddie started to smile. “Of course I will.” He promised. “I’ll tell you how getting a job, or three, goes.”

“Three?” He chuckled. “You’ll be dead on your feet.”

“It’ll be worth it.” Freddie stood up and grabbed his jacket. “Tomorrow evening?”

“I’m back from work at about seven. You can stay for dinner, if you’d like. Dad’s away on business for a few days, it gets lonely around the house on my own.” He smiled shyly.

“Deal.” Freddie pulled on his boots and faltered awkwardly by the door - he wanted to kiss him, or at least take a moment to be swallowed whole in his arms, but he was devoted to a lover Freddie couldn’t hope to match. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah.” Jim shoved both of his hands in his pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Freddie.”

Freddie’s little _goodbye, darling_ had them both blushing like schoolboys, and Jim’s heart beat faster than ever.


	5. Vodka and Tonic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The infamous dinner invitation: or, the beginning of something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR WAITING FOR ME TO WRITE GUYS I LOVE YOU HERE YOU GO

Jim wandered around his dressing room, frantically grabbing bottles of cologne and balancing them precariously in his arms before he went back to the phone. “Okay, wait, I’ve got a couple of options.” He lay them out on the table and looked over them. “What do you think of Givenchy? I’ve got Givenchy, Dior, Chanel, Tom Ford, or I’ve got Tiffany.”

“I think you’re treating it like a date.” Sam laughed; he could hear her blowing on her nails at the other end of the phone. “What happened to Mr. I’d-die-for-Tom-if-he-asked-me-to?”

Jim’s cheeks coloured. “It’s not a date! I just looked like shit last time, and I’d quite like to remind him that I can look hot when I want to.”

“Oh, come on, Hutton.” She laughed. “If you’re still so devoted to Tom, I doubt he’ll get close enough to smell whatever cologne you’re wearing.”

“Help me out!” He whined. “Should I wear the Tiffany? That’s the expensive one that Tom bought for my birthday.”

“Which one is actually your favourite?” She asked him. “Stop thinking about how much things cost for two seconds. If he’s anything like you say he is, he won’t be able to tell the difference between Dior or Tiffany anyway.”

“I like the Givenchy.” Jim picked it up and sprayed it at the base of his throat. “I think I’ve worn the same one ever since my eighteenth. Mum bought it for me before she moved, and I’ve had seven or eight bottles of it by now.”

“There you go, you’ve got a story to tell him too.” She grinned. “Have you told Tom that you’ve got an unknown boy coming to your house when you’re home alone? Or your father, for that matter?”

“Christ, I’m never telling my father. I don’t need a lecture on infidelity and loyalty.” Jim lit a cigarette and sat down on the footstool in the centre of the room. “Tom’s in San Fran, which technically means I can do what I like.”

She whistled playfully. “Oh, you’re going to go and break his heart!” She teased. 

“Listen-” Jim said quickly. “Christ, alright, I don’t know what I want. I’ve only known this guy for a few days, but he- he seems really sweet, honestly, and I just- I want to keep everything on the cards, you know?”

She paused. “I didn’t realise you were actually unhappy.” She said apologetically.

“Oh, I don’t know if I am.” He blew smoke at the ceiling. “I just, you know, thought I’d invite him over, and see what happens. I mean, I don’t know if he’s even interested, so it might just turn into some kind of friendship. I don’t even know if he likes guys, Christ, I can’t get ahead of myself.”

She started to smile again. “Tell me about this guy, then, come on. Girl talk with me.”

She heard the familiar pop of his lips as he plucked the cigarette from his mouth. “God, I don’t know where to start.” He admitted with a chuckle. “He’s beautiful. I- I can’t even describe him, he’s so different to the guys I usually go for, but he’s- well, he’s a year younger than me, and he’s a little smaller than me, if that helps?” He shook his head with a shy smile. “He’s got these incredible eyes, they’re so- so bright, it’s like he finds joy in everything. He was looking at the painting in the dining room and he was just so enthralled by it, it’s like he’s been starved of everything pretty in his life. And I think of the number of times Tom and I have gone to shows, or eaten somewhere nice, or looked at art or listened to music or whatever, and I realised I wasn’t grateful for anything. But he- he looks so amazed by everything he sees, like everything is a luxury that he’s been forbidden, and I really love that look of wonder on his face.”

“You’re so smitten.” She laughed. 

Jim sighed happily, an agreement in itself. “He’s just different, is all. He’s happy, and he hasn’t had half the stuff I’ve had. It makes me think that all this-” He waved his hand. “This bravada, it’s all showing off, it doesn’t actually mean anything.”

“It nourishes the soul. Why do you think he loves your paintings so much?” She asked with a chuckle. “It’s all about being appreciative.”

* * *

The silk draped over his collarbones and he smiled at his reflection, the first time in a long while that he’d been able to smile at himself without the crushing weight of his responsibilities laying heavy and pushing down the corners of his lips. The kimono was short, more of a jacket, cropped around his waist, but the softness felt like home; once, he had owned three or four, private ones for home and ones to titillate the audience as he stripped off onstage. It felt like reclaiming a part of himself, a private part that had become so public; it reminded him of warming a hundred beds in a hundred different parts of the country, perfume painting his throat, cigarettes in low lit bars as he chased a dream, so hungry, so bright, young and hopeful and _up and coming and talented and successful and beautiful, damn, have you seen that boy?_

“What do you think?” He asked, turning around and grinning at the boys. 

“It feels like- God, I don’t know. Something’s changed.” Brian crossed his legs and leaned forward just a little. “You haven’t worn anything like that in over a year.”

“I finally got a fucking job.” He knelt down in their little circle and picked up his cigarette from the ashtray. “Bar in Charing Cross. I just need to earn enough to pay off this fucking debt, and then I’m going to pay for the next damn demo.”

“How the hell did you score a job there?” Roger asked, laying back on the bare floorboards and blowing smoke at the ceiling. “I’ve been trying for weeks.”

Freddie’s cheeks flushed just a little and Roger arched a playful eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you went straight for the blowjob.” He smirked. “You little tart!”

“No!” Freddie leaned over and kicked him, spilling ash on the floor as he did. “No, I just so happened to meet a very nice gentleman who lives in a mansion in Chelsea, and he gave me the details of a friend who was doing an exclusive hiring. He’s all about sex appeal behind the bar.”

“And he hired you?” John commented idly.

“Fuck off.” Freddie rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall. “I’ll have you know that I’ve a certain way of hollowing my cheeks that can drive a man wild from twenty metres away. I did a trial shift last night and I got fifty quid in tips.”

“You’ve always been good at the _yes, sir, no, sir_ shit when you’ve needed to.” Roger conceded. “When you say you met this guy, what level are we talking? Like, you spoke to him in passing when you shoved an empty coffee cup under his chin, you rescued his pet cat from up a tree, or you did your little siren thing and had his cock down your throat by the end of the night?”

“Oh, I would’ve tried it.” Freddie replied cryptically, elegant fingers plucking his cigarette from the corner of his mouth. “But he says he’s due to get married, darling.”

“Not married yet. That’s fair game.” Roger shrugged and whined when Brian elbowed him. “What?”

“The last thing you need is to go and stick your foot in and piss off the rich of Kensington and Chelsea.” Brian waved his hand in the air philosophically. “I’m sure they’ve got a hundred different charges they could levy at you just for wasting their time, let alone trying to infiltrate their ranks.”

“What’s the harm?” John brought one knee to his chest and leaned his elbow on it. “Does he know you’re into him?”

“How are you supposed to show a guy you’re into him when he owns a Bechstein piano and has a housekeeper? You’ll forgive me for thinking that anything I could do would be remarkably pedestrian, darling.” Freddie blew a smoke ring at the ceiling. “I got my hands on his piano, actually, first time I’ve played in months. I’ve got a new song.”

“You haven’t written in nearly a year.” Brian arched an eyebrow. 

“I know, I was fucking rocky when I was trying to work out the positioning. I have to cross over for part of the melody, it’s a fucking nightmare. I doubt I could do it like I did when I was at Mary’s, when I used to have the piano behind the bed.” He sighed wistfully.

“Who needs a shitty little Yahama upright if you’ve got a Chelsea millionaire up your sleeve? You’ll have a Steinway behind the bed.” Roger grinned. “I want to meet this guy.”

“Absolutely no offence, darling, but that’s never going to happen. It took him long enough to get his head around the idea that I was poor, if I start introducing him to the scoundrels of London then I’ll have him running for the hills.” Freddie laughed.

“Or the Lake District.” Brian quipped.

“They strike me as more of the south of France type, personally.” Freddie shrugged. “Nobody has given me an example of something that isn’t awfully pedestrian.”

“Roses.” Roger sat up a little and pointed his cigarette at him. “Everyone loves roses. Mary loved those ones you used to buy her, didn’t she?”

“She was a woman, Rog, and she also wasn’t a millionaire. I’m sure Jim’s used to having people throw flowers at him as soon as he walks into a room.” Freddie bit his nail. “He has a beautiful orchid in his bedroom, it must have cost hundreds.”

“What if the money didn’t matter?” John asked suddenly. “You can’t compete with finances, so why try? What do you have that the other guy doesn’t?”

Freddie paused for a moment. “His boyfriend travels a lot. He says that he’s lonely.”

“So you can be there more often for him. If this guy is out of the country for weeks at a time, and you can be there, dropping by, giving him cheap roses, putting a smile on his face, then you’ve got something on him.” John grinned. “You just have to think outside the box.”

* * *

Freddie’s fingers trembled as they clutched around the stems of the yellow roses, tied together with the shortest piece of silk ribbon that he could afford; yellow had been cheaper than red, pink, or white, and something in the sunshine-happy colour had made Freddie smile. The kimono draped elegantly across his shoulders, hiding what had thinned out a little too much for his liking; he was at least thankful that his stomach had been full the past few days, and the jut of his ribs were rapidly disappearing with the good food of his Mama.

He rubbed a hand over his arms, butterflies in his stomach, and pressed the bell beside the gate. 

“Freddie?” The voice crackled through the telecom quickly and Freddie started to smile.

“God, let me in, it’s freezing out here.” He laughed, teeth chattering.

He ran down the front path to unlock the gate as quickly as he could, fingers slipping on the latch. “I love your top.”

Freddie looked absolutely delighted and he looked down at himself, almost as though he was seeing it himself for the first time. He saw the softness against his skin, the elegant pattern from under the heavy leather jacket; he saw himself reclaiming a part of his identity. “Thank you.” He smiled shyly. “I got these for you.” He held out the roses, his cheeks flushing. “I know you weren’t happy the other day, and I saw them, and they- they made me happy, so I thought they might make you happy too.”

Jim took them, unable to stop smiling, and leaned down to shyly kiss his cheek. “Thank you.” He grinned, feeling like a child again. He lightly took Freddie’s hand and guided him back towards the house; his hands were so cold, and he couldn’t believe that he was standing out in the cold in such a thin little jacket.

“How was work?” Freddie asked, smile bright. He shucked off his boots at the door and rubbed his hands together rapidly, just to warm his fingers. “You don’t have a fire, do you?”

“We have a fireplace, but I’m terrible at lighting fires. I’m always scared I’ll set fire to the carpets or accidentally drop soot on them, or something.” He led him into the lounge, and Freddie grinned at the sight of an armchair next to the fire.

“Can I?” He asked shyly.

“Of course! Anything you want to.” He smiled as Freddie knelt before the fire and started creating a pile of kindling. “Do you do this a lot?” He asked; he dumped an old bouquet of flowers from the vase on the counter, prim and proper pink roses from Tom, and smiled at the brightness of Freddie's yellow in their place.

“It’s a cheap way to heat a small home. Sometimes I sleep on the floor in front of the fire because it’s just so cozy.” Freddie grabbed a match and lit a twig, the fire coming to life between his fingertips.

Jim stood and watched him in awe, as though he had created the spark with his fingers and not with the packet of Starlight matches he still clutched. The fire crackled, the twigs snapping as they burned and hissed with heat, and when he looked back at Jim, his cheeks were warmed pink and rosy. “Can I get you a drink?” Jim smiled shyly.

“A drink would be lovely.” Freddie stood up and brushed off his jeans. “What are my choices?”

“Soft or hard?” He asked, starting to grin.

“I learned at a very young age to never turn down alcohol.” Freddie winked at him. 

Jim laughed; something about how casual Freddie was, how warm and easy he was to talk to, made him happier than he remembered being for a long while. He tore up the rule back on etiquette with a wicked smile and a soft choice phrase, sinful words on ever-so-innocent lips-

And Jim loved it.

“Gin and tonic?” He offered. “Or vodka. We have some champagne, amaretto, or a couple of different beers if you’d rather?”

“I was advised by one of my best friends to never drink gin in front of new people.” Freddie followed him into the kitchen and sat up on the counter; without his father there to watch over the both of them, he felt happier, easier. 

“Why?” Jim chuckled as he pulled down two glasses from a high shelf.

“Gin usually ends in tears, darling. I’ve never been one of those men to be so down on myself, I’ve never been one to look in the mirror and cry at my body, but I tend to worry about my looks when I’ve been on the gin.” He grinned. “I’ll take a vodka tonic, please, darling.”

Jim poured a shot of vodka into each glass and Freddie widened his eyes. “Christ, you’re not used to doing that, are you?” He asked with a smirk. “You could kill someone off with something that strong.”

His cheeks flushed scarlet. “I-” He bit his lip. “I don’t tend to pour drinks.”

“I can tell.” Freddie took one of the glasses and downed two-thirds of the vodka in one mouthful. “There you go, that’s about a shot.”

Jim stood and stared at him. “That was neat vodka.”

“It was fucking strong, as well.” Freddie wiped his lips and shook his head with a laugh; Jim fell in love with the way he scrunched his nose against the burn at the back of his throat. “It’s not the first time I’ve done that. Pass me the tonic, darling.” He gestured for a bottle beside him, which Jim quickly uncapped and handed to him.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d have the money to drink.” He replied, eyeing the glass that was still filled. Something in him wanted to be reckless; he had plenty of experience drinking cocktails, craft ales, vintage ciders, but he’d never been friends with the type to carelessly knock back shots of straight liquor. He’d always wondered about the attraction of the burn, whether it would rush to his head-

His fingers seized the glass, and he drank.

Freddie screamed as Jim spat it on his jeans. “You bastard!” Freddie laughed, though he looked wickedly delighted.

“Oh my God-” Jim stared at him. “You made it look so easy!”

“I’ve had older men buying me shots since I was sixteen.” Freddie winked at him and grabbed a cloth to clean his trousers. “I’m not a good influence, darling.”

Jim took the cloth when he offered it and mopped the vodka and saliva from his chin. “Pour the tonic.” He coughed, his voice weak.

Freddie snorted and poured the drinks. “This is why I’m going to work in a bar, and you work in finance.”

Jim’s cheeks were still flushed when he finally looked up at Freddie, and his toothy, earnest smile made Freddie’s heart feel warm. “God, you’re fun.” He grinned.

“How long does it take for you to get drunk? You’ve only had about four shots of vodka.” Freddie laughed and sipped his drink, feeling a little as though he had the upper hand. 

“I don’t usually drink spirits.” He admitted.

“Trying to impress me?” Freddie teased with a laugh, jumping off the counter with his drink in hand and surveying the bottles he had in the wine rack with a whistle. “You’ve got Moët and Chandon. I wrote a song about that.”

Jim stood behind him, a little too close, but his head was already swimming and he’d almost forgotten they hadn’t been friends for years. “A song?” He replied dumbly.

“Yeah. It was a silly one, really, I wrote it when I was seventeen and-” He turned around and stood up, hitting his chin off of Jim’s nose, and gasped. “Oh my fucking God, shit, I’m so fucking sorry-”

Jim stumbled backwards and covered his nose with his hand, starting to laugh. “I can’t believe you did that!”

“I didn’t realise you were so close!” Freddie grabbed a cloth from the side and wetted it, before he pressed it to Jim’s nose. “The cold will stop it bruising.”

Jim let him blot at him for him, grinning to himself. “You’re making a mess of me.”

“I’ve had you spit vodka over half your kitchen and now I’ve broken your nose. You’re never going to invite me over again.” Freddie laughed. He pulled back when he was satisfied it wasn’t bleeding and smiled. “I like your cologne.”

Jim lit up, bright and happy as evening sunshine on a summer’s evening - it had been worth it after all. “Thanks.” He puffed it with pride. “It’s an old one, it’s-”

“Givenchy Monsieur.” He leaned against the kitchen counter, looking proud of himself.

Jim mouthed for a moment. “How did you know?”

“I used to own a bottle. It was my show cologne. I’d recognise that scent anywhere.” He took another mouthful of his drink. “Even the smell of it gets my heart racing.”

“God, I’d love to see you perform.” Jim breathed.

“Well, we’ll have to see, petal.” Freddie winked. “We’ll have to watch which way the winds blow.”

* * *

Jim wasn’t sure at what point he’d lost his trousers, sprawled across his bed in his boxers and his t-shirt; he figured it was some time around the mark when Freddie had emerged from the bathroom in a silken robe, lip gloss, and nothing else. Jim knew from the colour it was the raspberry one he had hidden in his cabinet, the one he’d worn when he’d tentatively gone to pride, and he wondered idly if it would taste the same on Freddie’s lips as it had on his own.

He’d been sat at the piano for the last half an hour, and Jim had watched him with stars in his eyes and drunken love songs on his lips: half the songs he knew from the radio, and the other half sent him into raptures of technical beauty. They were silly, they were serious, fantastical, anxious, but every one was beautiful; he wished he could lay there for hours with his new best friend playing like a gramophone in the corner of his bedroom.

Freddie stood up and flopped onto the bed beside Jim, as though he had always belonged there, as though it was his very place, and it occurred to Jim that he fit there much better than anybody else there had ever been. Dark hair spilled over the pillow, dark like whiskey on marble and tasting as sweet in his mouth, and honey-brown eyes stood out against the crackle of pristine white sheets. “Darling-” He sighed happily, and Jim was sure that if he bottled that sound, it would taste like bubblegum.

Jim found their fingers clasping together, and despite the promise ring on his fingers, he didn’t untangle them. “Stay.” He murmured.

“I have to go home!” Freddie grinned. “This isn’t my house.”

“No, but-” Jim lay on his side and looked at him earnestly; he couldn’t form his protestations into words, only into that one word. “Stay, Freddie, stay.”

“I’m not allowed to stay.” His smile was childlike and happy. “You have a boyfriend.”

“Fuck him.” Jim breathed; suddenly, his fingers seized at his ring and he threw it across the room, shattering a mirror with the force behind it.

Freddie was wide eyed as he looked back at him, a realisation suddenly dawning on him. “Jim-”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting as Jim got closer, but he wasn’t expecting arms around him and a head falling heavily on his chest, hugging him so close, as if he was worth having in his arms forever.


	6. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first night on the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so thankful for everyone who is commenting on this!! Please keep telling me what you're thinking, it inspires me so much when people are enthusiastic about my works!!!!!

The water sloshed over the edge of the bath, the scent of roses overwhelming every one of his senses as he lay back amongst the bubbles; the radio balanced precariously in its own pool of water on the counter, blaring something new and up and coming with indifference to the rest of the world and its tastes. His smile was lazy, languid, as he cupped water in his palms and ran it over his chest, his shoulders, and he smiled wider as he picked up the cigarette from the ashtray on the side of the bath and took a long, decadent drag.

In his mind, he was in Jim’s bathroom, white marble and chrome and gold; his own little bathroom, pastel green porcelain, faded into insignificance.

He blew smoke at the ceiling and sunk down, the water sliding, covering, enclosing every part of his body that he hadn’t dared to bear for so long. Once upon a time, he would’ve stripped down to tiny shorts, suspenders, boxers and a silken shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination; once upon a time, he would’ve fixed a molten gaze on any man of his choosing in an audience as he slipped one thumb under a suspender and snapped it back against his skin. He’d always loved the curve of his waist, out to his hips, feminine and lithe and elegant; he’d always loved men who would wrap their hands as far around his thighs as they could as they dined or drove, oh-so-elegant and oh-so-dirty.

He’d always loved the dark hair that was now slicked back with warm water; he’d always loved the dark eyes that sparkled with stage lights, doe-innocent and star-bright and intoxicating. He’d always loved being a little siren, thanking both his voice and the sex appeal that he’d dripped - he’d always loved being young, fun, and talented.

He had a tongue that could subdue nations, with choice phrase or choice verse; he had eyes that could drag a man across a room, into a bathroom, and into a stall, with only the smallest effort.

He’d lost something when he’d sold his kimonos, sold his piano, when every piece of luxury that he’d accumulated had slipped from between his fingers, as easy as water. The sparkle wasn’t half as pronounced when his clothes were old and torn and repaired a hundred times over; he didn’t feel as though he could call himself a siren when the looks of lust became looks of dark humour, or else of pity.

But now- now he was reclaiming himself, one bubble bath, one cigarette, and one kimono at a time.

He had his damn power back.

He pictured himself in a mansion like Jim’s, one wrist elegantly ashing his cigarette on a stone-tiled floor and the other sipping a glass of something alive with bubbles, tickling and teasing his palette. He pictured the housekeeper downstairs, armed with his mother’s recipes, ready to fill his stomach, and he pictured Jim as he came into the room, socks quiet on the tiles. He pictured his smile, the look of desire that he’d been craving for so long; he pictured dry hands becoming wet as he sat beside the bath and cupped a dampened cheek, kissing him long and slow and hungry as his other hand trailed lower, low enough to get his heart racing with excitement-

His eyes snapped open when there was a banging on the door, and he hastily covered as much of himself as he could in the bubbles. 

_ Christ, he needed to get laid. _

“What is it?” He called, hoping he could pass off the reddened cheeks as the steaming heat of the bathtub.

He heard the vague stutter of a voice, nervous. “I- I brought you something.” It spoke, and Freddie knew he’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“Fuck.” Freddie laughed, unable to believe what was really happening. “Hang on, darling, I’m in the fucking bath.”

Freddie could almost feel the heat of his blush through the door between them. “Should I come back later?” He asked shyly.

“No, no, just wait a second.” He requested, sloshing more water on the floor as he stood up and grabbed his towel; he rubbed it quickly through the ends of his hair, and then wrapped it hastily around his waist. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror and smiled involuntarily; he was finally starting to look like a person again, a person with muscles in his arms and shoulders from shovelling and lifting and pouring and climbing. When he opened the door, it was the first time in a long while that he hadn’t felt even a little self conscious of his chest. “What can I do for you, darling?”

Jim didn’t know what he’d expected. Boxers, he thought incredulously, the clothes he must’ve worn into the bathroom in the first place, a dressing gown, a robe? He hadn’t, for sure, expected an almost-naked Freddie Bulsara to stand opposite him.

“You said you weren’t sure you had a good shirt.” His voice was terribly weak, and he fought the voice in his head which wondered, once again, what Freddie would be like to kiss. He held up a black shirt, and Freddie’s eyes went wide with gratitude. “I found it in my old stash.”

“How did you even know where I live?” Freddie asked after a moment. 

“Everyone knows who you are.” Jim started to grin. “I asked a couple of different people. I asked a friend when we went out for a drink after work, and he thought the barman might know, and he didn’t, but one of the guys in the kitchen did.”

The familiar feeling of pride and confidence swelled in his heart. “What was his name?”

“The guy in the kitchen? Roger.” He replied.

“Roger’s the drummer in my band.” Freddie explained as he beckoned him into his bedroom; it looked a little bare, his bed, a quilted blanket, a little plant, and a wardrobe taking up most of the space in the room. In the corner, though, one of the few possessions he adored still stood: an authentic Japanese dressing screen. “Pass it here, darling, I may as well get dressed now.”

Jim watched him snatch up the good pair of jeans he’d given him off the bed, and he took the shirt from his grip; he winked as he disappeared behind the screen. Even hearing the sound of his towel hitting the floor made Jim’s cheeks heat, and he desperately thought of something to say to distract his mind. “Don’t you need underwear?” He asked suddenly.

Freddie burst out laughing and came back around the screen, jeans fastened but still in the process of buttoning his shirt. “Darling, when you’re poor, you learn not to waste money on fanciful items like underwear.” He winked, lithe fingers quickly threading buttons through holes. “I’m going to need to do a fancy little pleated tuck to get this thing to fit.”

“I did think about that.” He said apologetically. “I did- I brought a safety pin, I thought I might be able to pin the back for you, so it’ll at least fit around the waist.

The idea of having those hands on his waist made his skin prickle again with heat. “That would be awfully good of you, darling.” He swallowed.

Jim tried to disconnect his mind as he smoothed the fabric out around his waist and over his hips; his mouth felt a little dry at the sight of the other man in his clothes. Freddie surreptitiously checked his hands as he folded and tucked, disappointed to see the ring back in place, and yet he’d expected it all along. “Have you spoken to Tom recently?” He asked.

The little scowl that crossed his face made Freddie’s heart leap. “Only for as long as it took for him to mention the four guys he’d been with last week.” He smoothed his hand over Freddie’s back, the pressure a little firmer than strictly needed, and Freddie knew he needed to readjust his jeans before he turned back around. “There you go, you’re all done.”

“Are you allowed to go with other guys?” Freddie asked, trying to make his voice sound as innocent as possible. He quickly smoothed himself out and glanced in the mirror before he turned back to Jim. “Seems a bit one-sided if he’s the only one doing it.”

“I’m allowed.” He shrugged. “But I don’t tend to.”

“You must get so frustrated.” Freddie picked the lip gloss out of his pocket, not caring if his flirting was a little too obvious, and meticulously slicked his lips rose-pink. Jim’s eyes watched his every move, and Freddie felt almost drunk on the intimacy of the attention; he had craved this feeling for so long. “Couldn’t you go to a club, or something?”

“I start at nine most mornings. There’s no way my recovery’s that good.” Jim swallowed hard. “I’d have to meet someone in a different way.”

Freddie shrugged and picked up his jacket, which was slung over the corner of his dressing screen. “All I’m saying is that it’s not technically cheating, you know?”

* * *

“I’m not sure you should smoke as you work, kid.” Matt rested a hand on his waist as he leaned over to grab a glass. “I’ll fire you if you get ash in someone’s drink.”

“Nobody said I was going to light it.” Freddie smirked. “You think I’ve never been in a bar before?”

“You don’t look like you’re old enough.” He leaned his hip against the bar and watched him, enthralled by long fingers and the sharp cut of his throat as counted coins and notes. 

“That, my darling-” Freddie winked as he moved past him. “Is for me to know, and you to not.”

The atmosphere of the bar suited him; his heart raced with the pace of the music, the air hung heavy with the smoke from countless cigarettes and blunts, passing hand to hand in groups of men who circled the room, searching, hunting. It was dark, barely bright enough for him to find a gin glass instead of a pint glass, hopeless in helping him estimate how much vodka he poured before the tonic. The energy, though, was infectious; the energy seemed to reverberate around him, and he knew he had more than his fair share of attention as he stood there, cheeks hollowed around an unlit cigarette, the dim light concentrating in the glint of his eyes.

“Hey, doll.” His next patron leaned across the bar, as close as he could, and Freddie leaned his elbows on the counter to get even closer to him. He’d always been a sucker for attention, no matter how sleazy. “Double vodka and coke.”

“So predictable, darling.” He purred, winking at him. “Anything else for the gentleman?”

He grabbed a little something from his pocket and flicked it open; Freddie watched the flame as it danced amongst the heavy smoke of the bar. “Looks like nobody’s given you a light.”

“Oh, you angel.” Freddie leaned forward and touched the end of his cigarette to the lighter. “Drink’s on the house, darling.”

He poured it quickly, taking deep, appreciative drags as he did, and when he turned back to the man, he grinned, low and wicked. “Tenner if you kiss the glass.”

Freddie arched an eyebrow but took the cigarette from his lips, setting it down to burn a hole in the beer mat on the counter. He never broke eye contact with the man as he slicked his lips with gloss again, and then kissed the side of the glass, eyes fluttering, making it look almost pornographic. He felt as a hand slipped a note into his pocket and opened his eyes with a smirk on his face, placing the glass on the bench and picking up his smouldering cigarette. “I’ll take it in fives, honey.” He breathed.

The man threw two fives at him and winked. “Keep the change, sweetheart. I’ll be back.”

Freddie moved back into the kitchen and checked the note in his back pocket - a twenty. Thirty, deducting the five for the drink - twenty-five for kissing a glass. 

“Petal, I love your shows very much.” Matt leaned on the wall against him - in another world, where he wasn’t dependent on the job for his income, he would’ve grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. “But if you do that for every man, you aren’t going to keep them happy for long. You need to speed it up.”

“Oh, I’ll keep them happy, you trust me on that one.” Freddie slid the note back into his pocket. “Consider me an investment.”

“An investment?” He repeated, a wry smile on his face. “What am I investing in?”

Freddie bit his lower lip heavily, sensually, and then smirked. “Notoriety.” He whispered in his ear.

“Notoriety.” He replied, smirking. “God, you were a good choice.”

“That’s what they all say, my darling!” He called happily as he walked back out into the bar, where four men immediately clamored for his attention. “Darlings, darlings, who was here first? We ought to be a little more civil, don’t you think?”

Jim wondered if it was his inability to compete that had him standing further away from the bar than he’d hoped; he didn’t know how to push for his place at a bar where flaunting a fifty wouldn’t make him special. He relied on bars who knew his face, his father’s face, their name; he relied on his own notoriety, and not the ability to push and shove his way to the front. In the same way as he couldn’t stand shots, he hadn’t grown up in a culture of trying desperately to get the attention of the bartender with the perfect cheekbones. 

It felt like a show, almost, a sleazy burlesque with the waitresses dressed in their underwear, maybe, serving them whiskey on the rocks. It felt like a bar he’d never intended to frequent, though his decision to go was deliberate-

He wanted to see who Freddie really was.

When he wasn’t subservient, when he wasn’t beaten down, when he had a crowd at his fingers, no matter how small. He didn’t care if it was four people, or four hundred; he thrived off the energy. He glowed behind the bar, effervescent amongst the lights and the energies of a hundred people he’d never met before, so sensual and so sexual and so confident that Jim supposed he was already ready for a man to grab him by the collar and kiss him. He knew how to play a crowd, and how to have them on their knees before him; he knew exactly how to lure a man in so that he’d be between his legs by the end of the night.

Jim supposed he’d been sheltered as a child, that he hadn’t been exposed to anybody like him before; he’d been taught modesty, humility, the elegant art of understatement. Freddie, though, was elegant in his exuberance, in his self-belief, in his confidence; he’d been taught to believe in himself, and in the power of his words. He’d been taught to say no when he meant it, to play a crowd, the art of digging in his nails when he was fighting; he’d been taught how to hollow his cheeks to drive a man crazy, the tone of voice to use when he wanted his way, and it drove Jim crazy. 

It brought out something that had been subdued in his heart for a long while, a want, a desire, wondering how it would feel to love and live recklessly, instead of in such carefully curated confines. He’d always been promised everything, trips abroad and all the clothes he could dream of, but he’d longed for more. It wasn’t the material, he was beginning to realise: he was longing for recklessness, the recklessness of throwing away a man who would make him comfortable for a man who would make his heart race.

He wouldn’t be held back any longer.

He moved towards the bar as laughter erupted towards the man he longed for; when he looked over shoulders, squashed together, he saw drinks served with the subtle sway of hips. It was as though the music possessed him, the deep thrumming of the bass his very own heartbeat, thundering away in his chest; he closed his eyes for a moment and danced for the men who watched him - everyone watched him, Jim considered, there wasn’t a face in the bar that wasn’t watching the way he caught his lip between his teeth as he ran his hands up and through his hair-

The energy was infectious, and he found that his elbows and shoulders were sharper than he had ever thought; he landed heavily against the bar, voices cursing him for behind, but he met Freddie’s eyes, and he paused.

A smile, saccharine and dangerous, painted his face.

“Whiskey on the rocks.” He announced, yanking the tie from around his throat. 

Freddie winked and leaned over the bar, taking the silk from his fingers and twining it around his neck like a scarf. Jim wondered for a moment if he’d taken his own shots before the bar had opened; he had that lazy confidence he had when he was drunk, yet the alert speed of his tongue wrapped around words that a drunk couldn’t dream of. 

“You’ll have to be patient, sweetheart.” He drawled, grabbing another pint glass from above him; the movement made his shirt draw up, and Jim watched the eyes of the men as they raked his figure hungrily. “I’ve got a queue.”

Jim wasn’t used to being told no; he lived his whole life in a realm of yesses, and yet, he supposed, what he wanted was to work for something. 

* * *

He’d been doing shots since his shift finished, acrid glasses of cerulean blue and neon green, crimson red, chemical yellow - there was nothing he wouldn’t drink, Jim had discovered. Any obscure liquor, any spirit: he didn’t care if it was forty percent proof, or four. He had mastered the art of never disappointing the men who paid his expensive habits; he could keep them entertained for hours in an alcoholic haze, bastardised disciples, wondering if it was ever possible to own somebody who was so erratic, so wild, and so untamable.

The satisfaction of his back hitting the rough wall made Freddie shudder; he trailed his fingers over the chest of the man before him. He supposed Jim thought he was a little more drunk than he truly was: he wasn’t anywhere near drunk enough to slow the racing of his heart as he looked at the man who had one hand on his wrist, and the other on his cheek. His head swelled with sensations, physical, emotional, labouring his breathing from the excitement of the smell of spilled wine, sweat, adrenaline, and something else, something distinct, something he loved so dearly-

_ Givenchy Monsieur. _

“Go on.” Freddie whispered, eyes bright and alive as he looked at Jim; he shook himself free and wound both arms around his neck. “No one has to know.”

“Everyone’ll know.” He replied, his breath tickling down the hollow column of his throat.

“No one’ll remember by morning.” Freddie smiled wickedly. “Call it revenge.”

The press of their lips was surprisingly slow; Freddie was taken aback by how carefully his hands cupped his cheek, the curve of his waist, and he found himself laughing, tipsy, overwhelmed. 

Jim broke away roughly, and Freddie looked up at him with a pout, trying to chase his lips. “What’re you laughing about?” He asked, sounding a little wounded. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so gentle.” Freddie relaxed as those lips pressed against his own, gentle but insistent, rhythmic, intoxicating in themselves; if he could get a man high on a lewd suggestion and a wriggle of the hips, then Jim could get him high on the taste of his lips. “You look like you’ve wanted to bend me over the bar half the night.”

“You made me realise I can’t afford to be polite my whole life.” Jim tilted his chin up and kissed him again, cherishing kisses he knew they’d both forget in the morning. He couldn’t focus on anything other than the man under his hands,  _ saccharineraspberryblossom  _ on his lips, so bright, young and hopeful and  _ up and coming and talented and successful and beautiful, damn, have you seen that boy? _

“Politeness leaves you unhappy.” Freddie murmured as Jim kissed at his jawline.

“I want you.” He murmured.

Freddie’s grin was filled with pride, the cat with the cream, the cat with the luxury satin pillows to recline amongst and soft cashmere cats to pad his paws over, leisurely and lazy. “Say it again.” He sighed happily.

“More than him.” Jim kissed his lips again, unable to stop himself, to tear himself away; the boy was a siren, and he wasn’t strong enough to avoid his charm. “I want you more than him.”

“Fuck him.” Freddie stood on his toes to look him in the eye. 

He let out a long breath, hands so tight on his waist. “I will.” He whispered, a sickly sweet promise, dedication, obsession.

* * *

His head nearly hit the floor, his back arched over a footstool in the middle of his dressing room; his throat was bared to the ceiling, goosebumps rising over his skin as the clock hit five o’clock, six-

A vague melancholy settled over the room, the sound of a needle on a record player scratching long past its final song, the smell of the scent of Tiffany leaking from an upturned bottle; he lifted his fingers to his lips once again, just to touch them, just to relive the only moment that he’d felt alive, he’d stopped pretending, he’d just learned how to indulge himself and how to feel-

_ Saccharineraspberryblossom; bittersweet kisses on bittersweetsour lips. _

His fingers were colder than Freddie’s lips would ever be, and the pressure was artificial; his heart longed for something more.


	7. Silver Spoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'd be appalled if I saw you ever try to be a saint - I wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sponsored by Hozier thank u

His hair clung to his neck with rainwater, despite the heavy jacket over his shoulders; he watched his fingers as they raised to knock on the door as though they were from a foreign hand, the movement detached from his mind by the pounding headache knocking rhythmically on the front of his skull. He blew out a hard breath and knocked once, twice, third for the luck that he needed at that moment in time-

“Hello?” The woman was young, and she chewed gum with a rhythm so fast it made Jim’s jaw ache. 

“Hi.” His smile was almost apologetic, and he bit his lip shyly. “Is Freddie around?”

She looked him up and down, as though almost in disbelief that a man in a Burberry coat was asking after her brother. “He’s asleep.” She replied eventually. 

Jim faltered and let his head duck down a little, rainwater dripping off the end of his nose and landing with a gentle splash on the pavement in front of him. “Oh.” He sighed. “I thought- well, I suppose he was working late last night.”

“Who are you?” She asked, leaning her hip against the doorframe.

“My name’s Jim.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I- well, Freddie did some odd jobs for me for a while, and I guess you could call us friends by now.”

She warmed up to him immediately, once she was certain he wasn’t after either money or an illicit blowjob. “You can come in.” She moved out of the way, though her cheeks coloured when she looked around. “I mean, there isn’t much, it’s probably- probably nothing like what you’re used to, but I can make you some tea?” She offered.

It was sparse, but Jim thought it was cozy all the same. The dying embers of the morning fire warmed the room and he carefully toed his shoes off at the door, forever respectful of the rules of the best households he’d been in; his coat steamed as he hung it up. “Tea would be lovely.” He agreed.

They stood together in companionable silence - the girl took chancing, fleeting glances at him, as though he was a celebrity she’d only ever seen on television - and Jim thawed out his frozen hands by the fire. “So, who-” He started, but paused.

He heard the creaking of floorboards above him and looked up instinctively; a smile broke onto his face as the little room was suddenly flooded with the sound of piano, bright, happy, enthusiastic.

“He’s just written this one.” The girl smiled and handed him a mug painted with Japanese blossom. “He won’t play it when our parents are home. That’s my privilege.”

He knelt on the little square of carpet and listened, his heart swelling with love. “It’s beautiful.” He whispered. “Why wouldn’t he play it for them?”

“The piano is innocent enough, but they don’t appreciate it when the lyrics get a little lewd.” She chuckled. “He picked up this piano from a friend of a friend a few days ago, he’s barely been off it since. Mama nearly killed him for playing it at four o’clock in the morning.” 

“I’ve never heard anyone play anything like it.” He smiled, flushed.

She shot him a wink and grabbed a mug off the counter; he heard the gentle tap of her fingers against the door and suddenly the mu sic seemed to be reverberating off of the walls, loud and gorgeous. 

He nearly lost his breath when Freddie started to sing.

_ Set my alarm, turn on my charm _

_ That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy! _

“I convinced him to sing.” She sat on the stairs and smiled. “I love this one so much.”

_ Can you feel my love heat? _

_ Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love- _

“Christ!” Jim laughed. “He’s not afraid, is he?”

“Never has been.” She shrugged with a grin. “Knew when he was fourteen, and when he knew, the rest of the world knew too. But then our parents always taught us it was fine, right from when we were little kids - it was always a statement of when we got a husband or a wife. Maybe they expected it.” She chuckled. “I think Pa’s always liked having a son who’s so interesting.”

“Interesting is one way to put it.” He sipped his tea and chuckled. “He’s like a damn siren.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re not-”

“I haven’t told him yet.” He rubbed one arm, a little embarrassed. “But I- I think I’m in love with him. But, you know, me and half of the rest of the population.”

“He’s a siren because he’s an attention whore and he’s a romantic.” She laughed. “He used to have this house in Earl’s Court, it was gorgeous. He paid the rent on a loan because he was so certain that the band was going to make him money.” She shook her head, smile a little wry. “But it was- God, what a bachelor’s pad. He had a Bechstein in the front room and nothing in the fridge, ever. But he was determined that it was his to enjoy however he wanted. He probably only had it a year, but he must’ve had a hundred guys in that time.”

Jim leaned his elbow on his knee and cupped his chin. “Can’t they just get a new manager? It seems cruel for him to have a taste of that and then for him to have to regress into some- I don’t know, some kind of state that nobody deserves to live in.”

“He’s in debt to the bank on the rent for that place, and he owes the landlord money. He owes money to most of the studios and half the bars in London, and the record company, and the other guys in the band. And then Dad helped him out, but I don’t think he realised how bad it had gotten, and he’d already poured every penny of savings into trying to get it off the ground to begin with.” She sighed. “No management company is ever going to go near him with his name so blackened.”

“But how is he supposed to make the money if he can’t make the music? He won’t pay off all that money working a dead-end job in a sleazy bar.” He mirrored her sigh, his heart hurting at the pressure he had on his shoulders, just from trying to chase an expensive dream.

“He’s got another job in a café kitchen. He’s washing dishes.” She shook her head with a wry smile. “Quite frankly, it seems like his only option is to marry rich.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by a screech from the stairs. “Christ!” Freddie quickly wrapped his kimono tighter around himself. “Jesus, Kash, first you make me sing, and then you don’t warn me about coming downstairs without any fucking boxers on!”

“You don’t even own boxers.” She quipped, throwing him a pair of jeans that his mother had left out for him. “Stop pretending you’re fancier than you are.”

Freddie came back a moment later in his jeans and a t-shirt, bare feet strangely comforting and homely on the wooden floors. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked Jim, standing by the sofa and stealing his mug to sip at his tea. He wrinkled his nose in distaste a moment later and handed it back. “Who drinks black English breakfast?”

“You’ve got your own Earl Grey, madam.” She walked over to the stairs. “I’ll leave you to your boy talk.” She winked at Jim over Freddie’s shoulder.

They sat in silence for a moment, both on the floor in front of the fire, before Freddie smiled awkwardly. “Not what you’re used to, I suppose?”

“I don’t mind.” He said immediately. “I don’t mind small.”   
  
“What about dark and dirty?” Freddie’s grin was wry. “You never answered my question. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jim glanced down at his tea, his cheeks reddening. “I- well, I thought you needed to know something. I wanted you to hear it from me.”

Freddie’s heart sank. “What is it?” He asked, voice quiet.

“My boyfriend proposed last night.” He swallowed hard. “And I know- I know I told you I wanted you more than him, and that’s still true.”

“Can’t you say no?” He asked.

“I tried. Dad isn’t letting me refuse.” He sighed. “He’s been working so hard at getting me married, he won’t allow me to refuse the only offer I’ve got. I tried explaining everything to him, but he- well, he isn’t thrilled that it’s you I want to marry. I said, you know, I could propose to you, if that would make him happy, but he said I can’t propose if I’m engaged. He said the only way we could break it is if somebody else proposed to me before I got married.”

Freddie was stunned into silence. “I think I’m lost.” He admitted. “You want to marry me?”

Jim took one of his hands gently. “I love you.” He whispered.

“You barely know me.” Freddie whispered. “You’re in love with someone who doesn’t exist. This-” He gestured around, suddenly angry at the universe for crafting the situation. “This isn’t me. I don’t like living like this, I- I don’t want to be some pretty housewife, I- you can’t marry the pretty little servant boy.”

“I don’t mean-” 

“You don’t even know me!” He stood up and shook his head. “Christ, I’ve taken this too far. I’m a pretty little bartender that you feel sorry for because you know I haven’t eaten a square meal for the last three years. You think I’m some little slutty siren because I know how to get more tips in an evening by fucking degrading myself, and you love that I’m fun.” He ruffled through his pockets quickly and lit a cigarette. “You don’t know the name of my band. You don’t know any of my friends, you barely know my history, you don’t know my favourite colour or my drink of choice. How can you say you love me?” He took a hard drag. “You’re in love with your own idea of me.”

Jim sat back, cheeks colouring like a child in disgrace. “I know that you make me happy.” He said quietly. “And I know that I don’t feel as though I have to be someone else when we’re together. The reason I love you is because you have a favourite colour, and you have a band, and you have a history, even if I don’t know them yet. People in my world-” He faltered. “No one has any of those. It’s just money, everything’s money, they paint the walls depending on what the most expensive tin of paint is and they wear the scent that’s the most prestigious designer. I want you to teach me.” He met his eyes eventually. “I want you to teach me how to be like you, and I want you to teach me all about you.”

“I can’t tell you I love you.” Freddie said quietly. “I don’t- I can’t. I don’t know if I just love the idea of all your luxury.” He admitted. “If we married, and I discovered there was nothing about us that was compatible except a love for luxury, we’d fall apart. I can’t stay somewhere I’m not happy. And I won’t be your perfect husband, I’m not a perfect little virgin, and I’m not fucking obedient.”

Jim suddenly surged forwards and cupped his cheek; Freddie was taken aback by the gesture. “I wish I had the luxury of time to love you slowly.” He said seriously. “But if we- if I don’t do something, then we’ll never have the chance to know if we could’ve been in love. There are so many what-ifs, Freddie, and maybe you’re not what I thought you were, but maybe- maybe you’re better than I could’ve ever imagined. Maybe I just have to give it a go now before it’s too late.”

Freddie bit his lip. “I don’t want to be a toy.”

“God, I don’t want you to be a toy. I don’t want to be a toy to him, either.” He insisted.

“I can’t give you everything you’re used to. I’m not elegant or sophisticated and I haven’t been sampling expensive wines since I was seven.” Jim’s heart soared as a little smile broke on Freddie’s face. “This isn’t how I ever expected this to go.”

“I don’t want it, Freddie, that’s why I want you.” He leaned in and lightly touched their lips together, and Freddie couldn’t help it if he melted into the kiss.

“I’m not a getaway car.” He whispered.

“You’re a risk.” He replied. “And you’re a risk I want to take.”

* * *

He fell back on Brian’s bed, the old springs groaning their protest at his weight, and stretched his hands over his head. “How do you show somebody who you are when you don’t know?” He asked eventually.

Brian sat up on his desk and arched an eyebrow. “I don’t follow.”

“Remember the guy from Chelsea?” He asked, turning to look at him, and laughed at the way his hair blew in his face at the wind. “Well, he’s convinced he’s in love with me.”

“Mission accomplished?” He asked with a chuckle.

“I didn’t realise the- the predicament he was in, I suppose. I’ve never lived in that world of arranged marriages and saving yourself for your husband.” He lay back and sighed. “I think he’s in love with the fact that this-” He waved his hand in the air. “It’s all different to him. He’s like a guy on a gap year, desperate to find himself.”

“You’re part of the exoticism?” He questioned.

“Exactly! I’m like a- a pathway in, I suppose, the golden fucking ticket. But I don’t feel like I could ever show him the whole world. I don’t think he’d ever want to see it all.” He admitted. “The whole world of blowjobs for backstage passes and batting your eyelids when it isn’t fun, it sells more tickets. I know people pay to see me make love to a mic stand, and I don’t begrudge that-” He bit his lip. “But it’s not me. But then- I don’t know what I am.”

“I think you probably underestimate him.” Brian crossed his legs and watched the way he rolled over amongst the dirty bed sheets. “Why do you live in this world?”

“I like the attention.” He dug at his fingernails. “And I like the thrill, I suppose, the power. I like being that siren.”

“So is it more that you don’t think he knows who you are, or that you’re afraid that settling down would kill what you know about yourself?” He questioned.

Freddie picked up his cigarette from where it had been smouldering in an empty glass. “I don’t know how to do long-term relationships with people who don’t know Freddie Mercury.” He blew smoke at the ceiling in a long sigh. “I’m used to having my pick. I don’t know who I am without that choice.”

“So, darling, it sounds to me-” The bedroom door burst open and Roger barged in, wearing a pair of Freddie’s old stage shorts and nothing else. He was almost definitely high, Freddie noted jealousy, until he wordlessly passed the blunt over to him. “He should come out for a night with us.”

Freddie spluttered on the smoke. “You’ve got to be fucking joking.”

“Explain it to him! No strings attached, you get with whoever you want, and if you end up going for each other when you’re off your tits and off your face, then it’s probably meant to be.” He smacked Freddie’s leg with a drumstick, and he yelped in pain. 

“What the fuck was that for?” He asked, getting his legs underneath him to shield himself from any more glancing blows.

“Well, I didn’t have a wand, so I had to improvise.” He grinned. “Now, Cinderella, shut the fuck up and go to the ball.”

Freddie laughed reluctantly and took another drag; the light-headed floating sensation would only help the hours of his shift disappear into the night. “I think I’m scared of being in love.”

“We’re not the ones to talk to about that. We’ve all had a disastrous set of relationships.” John threw Roger a t-shirt as he walked into the room, hitting him square in the stomach. “What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like you’re getting married.”

Freddie’s cheeks turned scarlet and Roger gasped. “Freddie fucking Mercury!”

“No!” He said quickly. “No, it’s just, they’re obviously very traditional and he’s already engaged to somebody else, and he’s not allowed to deny, it’s just-”

“I cannot believe this. You’ve managed to do this while you’re fucking sober?” Roger burst out laughing.

“I’m too scared of him to be in love!” Freddie said exasperatedly. “We can’t just be normal, because I’m fucking poor and he’s fucking rich.”

“Oh, who gives a shit? Sleep between silk sheets and embrace what you’ll be able to afford one day.” John shrugged, though his smile was warm. “Some people are born with a silver spoon against the tongue, and others have to start with Tesco basics.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is getting so juicy and exciting


	8. Commands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commands, and wishes fulfilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, I don't smoke nor have I been sponsored by a single cigarette producer

“If you stay on that phone one minute longer, I’m going to have to kill you.” Bomi crossed his arms as he stood opposite his son. “He only lives twenty minutes away, can’t you just go and see him?”

Freddie rolled his eyes. “One second, darling.” He spoke, voice rich and decadent, and covered the receiver with the palm of his hand. “His father’s home, which means I’m strictly forbidden from seeing him. He called me, darling, he’s paying the bill. You shouldn’t worry yourself so.”

“I’d watch how you speak to me if you want your present.” Bomi’s grin widened as Freddie looked up at him hopefully. He took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket - Marlboro Reds, he noticed immediately, the brand he used to smoke before the money got tight and he switched to terrible Richmond knock-offs - and waved it above his head.

Freddie leaned up to snatch them, but he pulled them back a little, the carrot held right before his eyes. “What do you say?”

Freddie rolled his eyes again, but he was grinning despite himself. “I love you, Pa.” He said sweetly.

“That’s more like it.” He handed them over and chuckled. “If I catch you running up the phone bill, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I’m not paying!” He insisted. “Ten more minutes, Pa, then I’ll come off.”

“Deal. Your mother will have dinner out before long.” He told him and walked into the kitchen.

“Sorry, darling.” Freddie murmured apologetically; Jim could hear the tearing of a wrapper in the background. “My dad bought me a little present.”

“A present?” Jim chuckled, lounging in the chair of the dressing room - it was down several corridors that his father never frequented, one of the most private places in his home. “What did he get you?”

“A pack of Marlboro Reds.” Freddie chuckled around one as he lit it, taking a grateful drag. “God, it’s like an orgasm.”

Jim spluttered on his laughter. “Freddie!”

“What?” He laughed. “You try and smoke some of the crap I shove in my mouth. People wonder why I walk around with them unlit, they’re so full of shit I don’t dare half the time. There’s fuck all nicotine in them, they’ve got fucking psychoactives like laundry detergent in. When you get hooked on Marlboros and then have to downgrade to those you end up smoking about twice as many to try and get the same hit.” 

“Why not just buy decent ones?” He asked.

“Money, darling, it’s always money.” He said theatrically. “I once smoked a Sobranie backstage at a gig and I thought I’d gone to heaven. It was a black Russian, it was the strongest thing ever, I’ll kill a man to get another one of those somewhere near my mouth.”

“I wouldn’t have thought black would fit with your aesthetic.” He chuckled.

“I once did a photoshoot where I was smoking these terrible pink ones.” He laughed. “Black Devil. They taste like rose, they’re absolutely fucking unbearable.”

Jim laughed and felt in his pocket for his own packet - just listening to the sound of his slow breaths as he smoked made the urge crawl under his skin. “I’m not supposed to smoke in the house, but fuck it.” He murmured, flicking open his lighter.

“I’m such a bad influence.” Freddie’s voice was filled with glee. “What do you smoke?”

His cheeks warmed a little. “Treasurer Golds.”

“Fuck off!” Freddie replied immediately. “Treasurer Golds? Are you serious?”

“Bad habit. I’ll smoke Sobranies if I can’t get the Treasurers, and I’ve smoked Parliaments too, but I’ve got a stockpile of Treasurers that I get delivered every few weeks.” He couldn’t seem to keep the grin out of his voice. 

“Who even has sixty-five quid to spend on cigarettes?” Freddie took another drag. “Do you have crystal ashtrays and a fucking Zippo, too?”

“Something like that.” He chuckled.

“You are such a decadent bastard.” Freddie’s voice was full of awe. “I’ll jump you next time I see you if you give me one.”

“What happened to not being in love?” Jim teased. “Degrading yourself for the pleasure of others?”

“You were the one that called me a siren, darling. Maybe you just won’t be able to help yourself.” His voice was so cocky. “Speaking of that-”

“Actually, darling, I was thinking-” Jim started at the same time, and then paused. “You go first.”

“No, no, you.” Freddie insisted. 

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to do something one night when you’re not working.” Jim’s cheeks coloured. “I know you’re at the bar most nights, so if it’s a random night in the week I don’t mind.”

Freddie grinned. “I was about to invite you out this Saturday night.” He said cockily. “You said you wanted to experience what all this was really like. I was planning on going out with a couple of friends, and I wondered if you wanted to come.”

He’d been thinking something far more tame, but his heart beat hard in his chest at the prospect of such excitement. At the mention of Saturday, however, his heart sank a little. “I was supposed to be on a date night.” He murmured.

Freddie was a little offended. “Well, you know, it’s up to you.” He replied curtly. 

“I’ll have to find a way out of it. I’ll rearrange it.” He said quickly. “I mean- you work so hard, it doesn’t seem fair to palm you off on the one night you can do.”

“That’s more like it.” He grinned. “Listen, I’m about to get kicked off the phone, because I’m apparently about twelve years old, but I’ll let you know the details, okay? You might want to find the raunchiest thing in your wardrobe.”

* * *

The black trousers clutched tightly to the erotic curve of his thighs, flaring out over his shins and over the tops of the platform boots that pushed him up a little closer to the height of his friends; he tottered precariously as he walked, out of practice from the days he had cavorted around a stage in them. He wore a diamond-studded leotard - one look at it and Roger knew he’d lose it halfway through the night, he’d already had at least six of the same article and always ended up shirtless after the first fuck of the night - and a big belt clasped around the lithe curve of his waist. His body seemed to radiate sex appeal, eyes dark and dangerous as he leaned against the wall of the club, not-so-subtley eyeing up the doorman with a smirk on his face.

He didn’t have so much as a penny in his pocket that night; the money was thinning out again, and they didn’t have it to spare. The last twenty was safely held by his mother, enough to stop them from starving until Freddie’s next pay day - it wouldn’t be the first time that they’d made the money stretch.

It didn’t bother him: he didn’t need it, not when beautiful men were such a willing species.

“I’m surprised you’ve even got an outfit like that.” Roger looked him up and down, jealousy hot in his eyes. “I’d fuck you in that.”

“Tell me that again when I’ve had a couple of vodkas and we’ll see where it goes.” He winked; he felt so confident, so gorgeous, unstoppable, effervescent and bright and beautiful. “Anyway, honey, I may or may not have a husband.”

Roger snorted. “Where is he?”

“No idea, but he promised me a cigarette, so that means he’s coming.” Freddie twisted the words slightly with a grin on his face. “He smokes Treasurer Golds.”

“I’m expecting this guy to turn up in a three-piece suit with a pipe in his mouth and a fucking monocle.” Roger smirked and lit a cigarette of his own. “Want one?”

“I’m not smoking Richmonds when I’ve been on the Marlboro Reds, darling. I’m just starting to get my taste for luxury again.” Freddie quipped.

They bickered idly back and forth for a few moments, eyeing up the men as they entered the club; Freddie, though shrouded in darkness, managed to earn more than a few hungry glances, a couple of called pet names, words that made him blush and look so demure.

His heart pounded as soon as his eyes met Jim’s, and his mouth turned dry as he raked his eyes over his figure.

He wore nothing special, and Freddie internally scolded himself for getting so hot and bothered over a white t-shirt and jeans, but God- everything clung to every muscle in his body, thick biceps and strong legs that made Freddie feel weak at the knees. His hair curled irresistibly over the nape of his neck, and the smell of his cologne sent his head spinning.

“Fucking hell.” Roger breathed beside him. “Freddie, you’ve fucking scored.”

He puffed up, so obviously thrilled with himself for his excellent taste in lovers. “Darling!” He said happily, trying to pretend as though he wasn’t so affected by the way he looked.

Jim took one look at him, swallowed hard, and kissed him.

Freddie gasped, the feeling so different when he was sober and in the mood to be loved - he noticed the way those large hands fell to his waist, protecting him, covering him, owning him. He kissed him back, fierce, teeth closing on his lower lip and tugging in a way that made him groan.

“I’d say get a room, but I like my balls the colour they are right now.” Roger commented idly, ashing his cigarette.

“What, blue?” Freddie broke away and sent him a wicked smile, yelping when Roger smacked his arm. “Darling, this is my best friend Roger.”

Jim shook his hand and smiled warmly - the blonde could almost rival Freddie with the mischief behind his smile, and Jim wondered if he could move his hips in that same intoxicating way. “I’m the only friend that’ll go clubbing with him. He’s a liability.” He winked.

“And Roger, this is Jim-” He faltered for a moment over what to describe him as, and then seized the words he wanted. “My boyfriend.”

* * *

Freddie wondered if he’d ever tire of the thrill, standing in the middle of the room with attention rolling over him in waves from every corner, from the bar, from the doors to the bathrooms. He wondered if he’d ever tire of strangers’ lips, of hands on his hips and his ass, hands pushing the leotard aside to get where they wanted, whether it be his nipples or the lithe curve of his waist-

Jim sought nowhere the same amount of attention as Freddie did, happy to stand by the bar - he’d need several more drinks before he was confident enough to get in the midst of the men covering him in their attention. He’d bought the first drink, and Freddie hadn’t paid for a single drink that had landed in his hand for the rest of the night, no white wine, no vodka shots, no liquor that looked more like acid that was tipped down his throat. He paid no responsibility to anybody, no debt, dancing and flitting between men until he grew tired of one and sought the next.

The thrill, Jim thought, came in how Freddie would check he was watching.

It was a show, he considered, a sleazy burlesque where any and every man could touch his body in whichever way they pleased - he was more than happy to clutch at whatever would give, whatever would make the man sing. It was all a show for him, to let him know that there was nothing off limits in what he could do - if he’d lived in a world of restrictions before, then that night was the time to lose them.

His heart pounded in time with the music, an irregular dance beat that he tapped his foot to. He had been watching him for what felt like hours, and he was sure, absolutely certain, that all he was searching for was a signal.

The next time they met eyes, all the blood rushed to his head, and he jerked his head back just slightly.

Freddie followed the command like a puppy, so willing to please despite the indecency that rolled off of his shoulders as he walked over to him. He swung his hips as he walked, effortlessly effeminate-

“You need me for something?” He breathed, resting a hand on Jim’s thigh where he was sat on a barstool. 

Jim tilted his chin up and pressed slow, obscene kisses to his lips; Freddie stood up on his toes, arms looping around his neck, too obsessed with the meaning of more, more, more. He was obsessed with the slow press of his tongue, willing to take his time though he had to know, beyond a doubt, that Freddie would drop to his knees for him right there in the middle of the bar. “You said no strings attached.” He kissed the corner of his mouth and then pulled back, admiring the mess he’d made of his lip gloss. “I want you.”

“You could have any man in this room, baby.” Freddie simpered, though his smile was dangerous.

“I don’t want any other man.” He kissed him again, capturing his lower lip in that same way Freddie had at the beginning of the night. “You’re driving me fucking crazy, baby.”

“Tell me.” Freddie sighed happily as he kissed over his throat. 

“You’re a siren.” He replied, hands gripping his waist. “You play with all of those men and you just have to know that I’m watching.”

Freddie’s grin was cocky. “It worked.” He shot back. “Here you are.”

“You make me love the strangest things in the world.” He pressed a kiss to his lips before he replaced it with a cigarette, and Freddie smirked around the golden filter. The flick of the lighter lit up the hollows of his face as he leaned in to touch it to the flame, and he blew the smoke gratefully up at the ceiling from the corner of his mouth.

“Could you love this?” He asked, his voice dripping with sensuality. “Could you love watching me with all these men, every day, every night? Could you love teasing and playing?”

“Could I love watching the performance every day?” He asked with a smirk. “Could I love the way you look over your shoulder just to know that I know you’re being naughty? Could I love somebody who doesn’t want to be loved conventionally?” His grin widened. “Of course I could.”

“When I’m on stage, everybody wants me.” He leaned in close to his lover. “Everyone pays to see me, everyone wants to play with me. I can have my pick of anybody I want, and I do.”

“And yet, most of them never get your household phone number.” Jim kissed the shell of his ear and felt the roll of smoke over his collarbone. “I want to see you with a crowd. I want to see them commanded by you.”

“I don’t know if I’m the snake-charmer, darling, or the fucking serpent.” Freddie whispered, smoke-dry lips pressing to the cut of his jaw. “I suppose you’ll have to find out, won’t you?”


	9. Profiteroles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim has discovered Freddie's world, so it's only right that Freddie discovers his in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I write a chapter of this I think I can't top the last one but I'm the proudest of this one for sure

The music was rich, heavy like the cream on the top of the milk in the mornings his mother managed a sweet enough smile for the milkman; he knew to expect decadence when the offer was a night of luxury, just like all his dreams, a night at the opera, a day at the races, strawberries-and-cream sweet and sunshine happy. He knew to expect decadence when the suit had arrived at his front door by courier, a little note attached with a satin pink ribbon instructing only to wear it at eight o’clock the next Saturday evening: he’d worked himself to the bone during the week, his hands raw from scrubbing dishes, sore and cracked, and his mind and body tired from the art and performance of the little bar that he was slowly, slowly coming to love. They rarely had time to speak - his lunch hour fell over Freddie’s cafe shift, and by the time he got home, Freddie was scrubbing bar tops and arranging glasses ready for the doors to open on another night.

It made their time together all the more special.

Freddie had promised him roughness, debauchery, playing and teasing and having all the fun in the world. He’d promised him angelic lips, a serpentine tongue, dark eyes and eyelashes heavy with the weight of all the world’s truth; he promised no exclusivity, one man amongst a crowd of many, and yet he promised that he could be the one to whom he always returned. 

He liked the feeling of it, jagged and coarse between fingers that had been massaged with almond oil to keep the skin soft; he liked the texture of his love, dangerous, different, throwing out any semblance he’d ever had of normality and replacing it instead with a new, constructed reality, a dance where he choreographed all the steps that surrounded him.

He had never promised, though, to change; he had never promised to lose what he loved, elegant dinners and balls, violinists, silk, wealth. He had promised to expand his horizons, to enjoy the rough with the smooth, the perfect counterpart to one another, crying out for something different, for a change. He had never promised to give up what he had, and the parts of it he treasured; he treasured big houses with endless corridors, silken nightshirts as he padded over cashmere carpets to the bathroom, massages, French toast on Saturday mornings, clean and ironed laundry in his closets; he treasured expensive whiskies on the rocks and dinners served on silver platters by waiters who wore just a little too little.

“Oh my God.” Freddie whispered, and Jim tilted his head to watch the child-like, excited flush that rose over his cheeks. “Jim, this-”

“You wanted me to see your world, so I could love it.” One arm wrapped around Freddie’s waist; he was delighted to see that teasing, confident, exuberant façade fade into a look of wonder on his face, just like those first few moments that they had been together. “Now I want you to see mine.”

“This is crazy.” Freddie glanced up at him. “Are you sure? I- I really don’t know how to behave in places like this.” He admitted shyly. “I can’t give you anything for it until I get paid.”

“I’m not having you put a penny towards it.” He took his hand and led him to the table that was all laid out for them, armchairs in silk with their names embroidered on the napkins before them. “I want to know if you could love this.”

Freddie let him take the suit jacket off of him and he placed it on Freddie’s chair, before he moved it outwards for him to sit. “Could I love this?” Freddie echoed. 

“You live so fast.” He sat opposite Freddie. “And you love like that, too, fast and hard. And I know I said I wanted in on your world, darling, and it’s true, but I wouldn’t want to leave all of this behind. So my question is, would you be happy to live slowly for some evenings of your life?”

“You call this living slowly?” His smile looked delighted as he glanced around, at every player in the quartet opposite them, at the heavy draperies of red velvet and the simple cotton of the tablecloth that felt too decadent to have so many spoons and forks littering its clean precision. 

“You don’t have to chase anything. There’s no show to put on.” He smiled. “You don’t have to degrade yourself for the sake of another’s pleasure. You say yes, no, or however you feel, and you get to be honest with yourself for the night.”

“And what if that honesty ends in me ordering the most expensive thing on the menu, darling? What happens then?” He asked teasingly.

“Then so be it, sweetheart.” Jim leaned in and took one of his hands, and Freddie squeezed it in return; he didn’t quite know what to label the warmth in his heart as, but he supposed another would refer to it as the warmth of love. “I want to know who Freddie Bulsara really is.”

He trailed a nail - his nails were about the only thing he had time for those days, elegantly manicuring each one before he painted it in black - over the menu in front of them, and smiled. “I think he’s a little overwhelmed by the whole experience, darling.” He replied shyly.

Jim brought his knuckles to his lips and kissed them just gently. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t deserve a little luxury in your life. You can’t tell me no man has ever taken you out for dinner before.”

“You’d be wrong in your assumption, darling. Most seem to feel that a couple of vodkas and a quick shag is what’s strictly necessary.” He caught Jim’s eye and smiled a little, though he could see something hidden in the way he drew his lip into his mouth to bite on it.

“Do you prefer to be loved that way?” Jim asked quietly.

“I have no idea, my darling.” He admitted. “I suppose I’ll have to find out.”

* * *

Freddie looked over himself in the mirror, his cheeks flushed from happiness and the feeling of good wine rushing to his head; he smiled as he watched himself for a moment and raised a hand to his face. He’d always felt beautiful when he’d commanded the attention of a crowd, when he’d been powerful with a microphone stand clutched between trembling fingers: now, he supposed, he truly was beautiful. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and the way Jim’s eyes would appreciate him as he laughed, as he told stories, gesticulating almost violently with his hands, or as he started on his fourth cigarette of the meal - that was what made him feel more beautiful than he had in years. 

He leaned into the mirror and took in the sight of his rosy cheeks, smiling as he fumbled in his pocket for the lip gloss that Jim loved so much. He slicked his lips, his fingers trembling with the energy in his body that told him that maybe this was it, maybe the strange, rich, kind man who wanted to marry him could have a point.

“You’re looking good, doll.” A man stood beside him, looked him up and down, and smiled. “Here alone?” He asked hopefully.

“I’m with a guy.” He murmured apologetically, his smile shy. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no problem!” He winked. “I hope you have a lovely date.”

Freddie’s cheeks reddened further, overwhelmed by the love that seemed to surround him that evening. “Thank you.” He laughed softly, wandering out of the bathroom once he had smoothed out his shirt sleeves.

Jim’s eyes fixed on him, his glossy, happy glow, iridescent in the low restaurant lights; he walked as though he was dancing, every step fluid, methodical, precise, though slow. He met Jim’s gaze and smiled, his heart beating faster as he wandered back over to their table. “I only just noticed that my name is written on the napkin.” He smiled shyly. “How did they know?”

“They ask for all the names when we book the table. They were shocked that I wasn’t booking for Tom and I.” Jim chuckled. “You look gorgeous tonight.”

“I love it here.” Freddie sat back down and laid his napkin across his lap in the way Jim had taught him. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Jim grinned. “How do you feel, knowing we’ve got five courses left?”

“After having already eaten four? I’m overwhelmed.” He laughed. “I haven’t eaten this much food in years. Probably for my whole life. You’ll put me into a food coma.”

“You can crash at mine if you’d like to. I can get us a taxi home if you can’t stand anymore.” Jim grinned, taking his hands again; he liked the way his fingers warmed if he held them for long enough. “Do you prefer sweet or savoury?”

“Sweet.” Freddie replied immediately. “Do we get dessert with this?”

“Three dessert courses. Their profiteroles are to die for.” Jim smiled. “And I may or may not have requested a tower of them.”

“You’re actually going to kill me. That sounds incredible.” Freddie grinned. “I can’t believe that you actually eat here regularly.”

“How did you know I came here regularly?” He asked with a laugh. 

“All the waiters know your name!” Freddie grinned back at him. “And at least three of them have called me Tom.”

“I’m wondering how long it takes until he hears that you’re in the picture.” He admitted. “He’s in Morocco this weekend, so I can use that in our defence.”

“Do you really not want to marry him?” Freddie asked softly. “You seemed happy enough before I came into the picture.”

“I would argue that finding somebody else that you love more is a good enough reason. Just because we were happy once upon a time doesn’t make that we’re likely to be happy for the rest of our lives.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t happy before, anyway. I was putting up with it because it was all I ever knew. I didn’t know what it was like to not be loved in that way.”

“But you don’t even know how I would love you.” He murmured. 

“That’s why I want to get to know you. I want to know who you are as a lover.” He smiled. “I want to know the real Freddie Bulsara.”

“I want to change my name.” He said abruptly. “Legally. First and last names.”

“I like Freddie!” He said, sounded a little wounded.

“No, no, Freddie isn’t the name on my passport. I like Freddie too.” He smiled. “My name is Farrokh Bulsara.”

Jim mouthed around the name for a moment and then blushed. “Say it again.” He requested.

“Farrokh.” Freddie smiled. “See, that’s exactly why I don’t use that name in England.”

“Is it Indian?” He asked curiously. “Farrokh. I like it.”

“Etymologically, it’s Persian. It means happy.” Freddie’s smile, toothy and bright and confident, seemed to make so much sense to Jim. “I grew up in Zanzibar and India, but I went to English school, which is why I sound like this.”

“Do you prefer Freddie?” He asked.

“If I went back to India, I’d probably stick to Farrokh.” He said honestly. “I always think it sounds so happy. But it’s just been a pain ever since we moved here, and people had already been calling me Freddie at school, so I just moved to using that all the time.”

“I like Farrokh.” He repeated again. “Would you prefer I called you that?”

“No, darling, it’s okay. Everybody calls me Freddie now, even my family.” He chuckled. “I’m going to change my surname, too. I need a proper stage name.”

“I thought you’d given up on the stage?” Jim asked, secretly thrilled that Freddie seemed to be reclaiming his passions and ambitions. 

“The stage hasn’t given up on me.” Freddie replied happily. “Roger thinks he might just have been able to book us a gig for a few weeks’ time. It’s probably some shitty little bar, but I think it’ll be worth it.”

“Baby, that’s amazing!” Jim grinned widely. The pet name made Freddie’s cheeks flush harder and he looked away, catching the eye of the kind stranger and smiling even wider. “What are you changing your last name to?”

“Mercury.” He said immediately. “Freddie Mercury.”

“Oh, I love that. Is it after the element or the planet?” He asked curiously.

Freddie started to grin. “The god.” He said, voice a little cocky.

“You named yourself after a god?” He laughed.

“Of course I did, darling, this is me.” He grinned. “Is there a man who loves himself more in the whole world than I do?”

* * *

“What’s Tom going to say when he realises you’ve been buying me all these little gifts?” Freddie asked, standing in the middle of Jim’s bedroom in an unbuttoned silk nightshirt and a pair of briefs trimmed in lace. “Have you been having dreams about me in this?”

“You said that you didn’t have anything nice, sweetheart, so I thought I would make you feel good again.” Jim smiled. “Give you back your taste for luxury.”

“It feels so good.” He wound his arms around himself and Jim watched the way the fabric draped over his shoulders and down over his hands. He’d deliberately bought it two sizes too large, just for the way it hung down past his hips and settled on his thighs, just for the way he disappeared in the large size, and how comfortable and sweet it made him look. 

“Exactly.” Jim stood up and wound his arms around his waist from behind, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head as he watched them both in the mirror. “I want you to feel good.”

Freddie smiled and rested his head back on Jim’s shoulder. “You asked me if I could love all this.” He held out his arms and watched the way the silk clung to the curve of his waist. “All your decadence.”   
  
“All the showing off.” Jim grinned into his hair. “All the riches and gold and the luxury.”

“You’re not making it sound very difficult to deal with, darling.” Freddie smiled. “Living out my days wearing silk and eating profiteroles, and still getting my fix of handsy gentlemen and the power of the stage? Sounds like heaven to me.”

Jim smiled. “You don’t hate all of this? I know so many people turn their nose up at it, so many people think we’re so- so obnoxious.”

“Oh, it is obnoxious.” Freddie tilted his head back as Jim sprayed cologne at the base of his throat. His smile was languid, tired, and he laughed so beautifully when Jim kissed his collarbone. “You’re fucking obnoxious in your wealth, darling, with your stupid cigarettes and your silk sheets, but I’m obnoxious in my desperate seeking for your attention, aren’t I?”

“You seem like the kind of man who should’ve been born with a silver spoon in his mouth.” Jim laughed and kissed him slowly, softly, lovingly. “Suddenly I can’t imagine ever living my life without you.”

“People say I’m like sunshine.” Freddie kissed him back, fists clutched in the shirt he was still wearing. “You long for me, then you get as much as you can, and then you get sunstroke and you decide that you probably could’ve done with some rain after all.”

“What does sunstroke involve when it’s you?” Jim asked. “Overdosing on your lip gloss?”

Freddie laughed and tilted his head back as Jim kissed his jaw. “I wear that for you.” He replied. “It wasn’t a staple before I met you.”

“For me?” He asked.

“It’s the one I stole from your cabinet.” Freddie grinned. “That’s how I knew you’d like the taste.”

Jim grinned and kissed him again, as though to taste it for the first time. “That’s a Louboutin lip gloss.”

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” Freddie batted his eyelashes and drew Jim into another kiss just with a look at his lips. “I don’t know about luxury, darling. And besides, you didn’t even notice.”

“Can I buy you another? A different colour?” He asked hopefully, kissing him again. He walked him backwards until they fell amongst the sheets together, laughing softly into the kiss.

“What colour?” He asked, grinning.

“I want you to have a red. I like the pink, but I want to see you in a red.” He tucked his hair behind his ear and smiled. “I think it’ll make your eyes pop.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise I was getting a stylist as well as a boyfriend.” Freddie teased happily. “Make it a nice red, darling, my skin has warm undertones.”

“I’ll get it colour matched to you.” Jim knelt up on the bed and took a camera out of his bedside table. “Can I take your photo?”

“So long as it won’t fall into the wrong hands.” Freddie winked, arranging the shirt in an artful drape across his chest. 

“Only the girl on the Louboutin counter.” Jim grinned, kneeling over him to take the shot of his neck, chest, and face.

“Do you sleep with him on this bed?” Freddie asked abruptly, one eye opening as he watched him put away the camera.

“Pardon?” He laughed.

“Tom. Do you sleep with him here?” He started to smile wickedly. “The next time you make love with him, are you going to think about me laying here in the clothes you bought me?”

“You’re sinful.” Jim grinned back at him.

“Are you going to wish he wore lip gloss too?” Freddie persisted. “Are you going to think about the fact that I look better in this than he ever would?”

“You know I will.” He replied, and Freddie’s smile only widened.

“Are you going to wash these sheets before you have him over next?” He licked his lips and propped himself up on his elbows. “Or are you going to lie here and remember that the cologne all over these sheets came from my skin?”

“What do you want from me?” Jim asked, crawling over him to kiss him again. “What is it, baby?”

“Tell me you love me.” He whispered.

Jim pressed a kiss to his lips and then smiled. “I love you.” He whispered.

“Again.” Freddie insisted. 

“I love you.” Jim repeated. “I love you, Farrokh Bulsara, and I love you as Freddie Mercury. I love you.”

Freddie relaxed back amongst the sheets, relishing in the feeling of being loved, adored. “I love you too.” He replied.

Jim’s smile broke the moment; it looked so earnest, so happy. “Do you mean that?”

Freddie laughed and tugged him in for another kiss. “Don’t ask stupid questions, dear.” He whispered in his ear. “I love you.”

“I want your permission to love you.” He said with a smile. “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“I prefer the term  _ illicit-lover-on-the-side _ , darling.” Freddie tipped his head back and laughed; the sound filled the room, his heart, and any silence that he’d ever condemned. “But I suppose  _ boyfriend _ will do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your love on this fic! It motivates me to write faster, and I always love to hear your thoughts!


	10. Praline and Fudge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next piece of the puzzle, solved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW on here for starvation - not in an ED kind of a way, in a we-literally-don't-have-money-for-food kind of a way, just beware if that'll upset you!

“When’s the next time your father isn’t home, and you don’t have to pretend to love somebody?” Freddie asked, voice soft and smooth. He was curled up on the floor of the lounge, so tired, and all he wanted was to listen to his lover’s voice; he could float away on a cloud of ecstasy as he listened to him. His voice was so gentle, and could be so naive; Freddie found it endearing, loveable, and oh-so-soothing. 

“Dad’s gone to his house in France for a little while. He was getting awfully stressed with work, they suggested he go for a break.” He lay back on his bed and lifted the sheets to his face; it still smelled of the cologne that had hugged Freddie’s skin, though it was masked with the scent of sex. “Tom’s in London, but we had another argument, so I doubt he’ll be over for a few nights. He’s far too proud to come over and say sorry these days.”

Freddie smiled and rested his chin on his knees. “Can I come over?” He asked softly.

“It’s awfully late, sweetheart. I don’t want you getting hurt out there.” He said gently.

“Please?” Freddie asked again. “I want to see you, darling.”

Jim couldn’t help his smile. “Are you sure you’ll be safe?”

“I can handle it, darling. I used to train as a boxer.” Freddie laughed sleepily. “Twenty minutes. It’s raining out, you better have something warm for me.”

* * *

He was soaked to the bone by the time he stood at the front gate, dressed in a shirt that was torn and his tatty pair of old jeans; after seeing so much of the exuberant, excited, serpentine Freddie, to see him so vulnerable made Jim’s heart ache, just like those first few days. “Can I shovel your snow?” He joked, rubbing one of his tired eyes with a little smile.

“God, come in. You’ll die out here.” Jim held out an arm so that Freddie could snuggle up to his side under the umbrella. “Christ, you’re fucking freezing.”

Freddie seemed to be in a dream as Jim helped him into the house, even going as far to unlace his trainers for him. “I lit the fire in my room.” He kissed the top of his head and Freddie melted into the embrace; he seemed to seek love in its every guise that evening. “I laid you out some pajamas, too. They might be a little big, though.”

“I don’t mind.” Freddie finally smiled up at him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s sweet of you to do that for me.”

“You’re the one who walked a mile in the rain to get to me.” Jim cupped his cheek and kissed him again, enjoying the sweet, simple, chaste way that he kissed. 

“Could I-” His cheeks flushed as he pulled away, a little embarrassed; Jim thought the way he chewed his lip seemed awfully out of character. “Would you mind if I took a quick shower?”

“Of course not, darling, you must be freezing.” Jim chuckled and took his hand as they wandered up the entranceway stairs together. 

“Our electricity is out again.” He admitted. “Pay day’s next Thursday, so we’ll have it back then, but- well, I’ve never really been one for cold showers.”

“I can’t imagine having one in weather like this.” He paused in the corridor and opened the airing cupboard, pulling out two towels for him. “I’m sure you know your way around here well enough to find the bathroom on your own now.”

“There’s a bathroom on every corner, it’s not a challenge.” He laughed, holding them against his chest; they were warm from the heat of the boiler, and so soft against his fingers. “I was wondering-”

Jim leaned against the banister and smiled. “Shoot.”

“Do you want to come in with me?” He asked; his smile was shy, so innocent, and yet Jim saw that glint in his eyes, forever sweet and mischievous.

The colour scorched across his cheeks; he hadn’t seen Freddie in less than boxers and a shirt at any time. “Would you like that?”

“I’m not sure I have the energy to wash my hair alone, darling.” He rubbed his eye and laughed a little. “You don’t have to.”

“No, no, of course I will.” The earnestness of his grin made Freddie beam at him in return. He took Freddie’s hand, smile only widening when Freddie interlaced their fingers together, and kissed his temple as they walked into the bathroom. He leaned over and turned the shower on - he remembered that Freddie had chosen to have the dial at eight the last time he’d showered, warm enough to thaw out frozen skin, and turned it up to there. “What’s gotten you so tired?”

“I got another job.” He yawned and leaned against the counter as he kicked off his wet socks. “So I finish at the bar at six, and I start the next job at seven, and then I finish that one at four o’clock, and I’m generally back in the bar at ten.”

“That’s crazy.” He murmured.

“I’m trying to see if there’s anything I can get that runs like- seven until nine, or something. Some of the bastards aren’t even paying me the minimum wage, it’s just- God, this always happens, I get excited that I’m earning money and then I buy shit like kimonos and Marlboro Reds and then suddenly I haven’t eaten for three days and I stop feeling like a real person again.” He admitted. “But we can’t pay the gas and electric, and we’ve only scraped half of the water bill, and it feels like I had a couple of good weeks where I kept up with the repayments because we lived off the money you gave us and used the rest on mortgages and outstanding bills and shit, but now we’re suddenly back to roughing it again.” He rubbed his eye tiredly. “I just tell myself- it’s not forever, you know? I might be so tired I’m practically delusional, but if I manage to pay all this off, I can buy you a ring, and maybe- who knows, maybe I’ll earn a couple of hundred quid more so I can record another demo. It’s just like- there’s never anything to spare at the end of the month, so I have to get past that first.”

“You don’t need the pressure of buying a ring on top of everything else.” Jim sighed, helping him out of his t-shirt.

“I love you.” He said quietly, though his smile was still bright as ever. “And it wouldn’t sit right on my consciousness if I let you marry someone you didn’t love. It’s just that something tells me that your father won’t accept a shitty piece of stainless steel that doesn’t have any diamonds in it.”

“It doesn’t matter what it looks like.” He insisted.

“How much did that one cost Tom?” He asked, gesturing to his finger.

Jim sighed as he looked at it. “Fourteen grand.” He said quietly.

“Exactly. He can afford to pay fourteen grand for a ring for you, he’s probably got a London penthouse and a country stately home with fourteen horses and a Jaguar he never drives in a garage.” He looked a little defeated as he looked down at the floor. “I still live with my parents and I can’t even afford red roses.”

“I don’t care about the money.” He took Freddie’s hands gently. “I could buy us somewhere, you don’t have to worry about all of that.”

“But it’s not about that, darling, is it? It’s a battle that is continuously rigged in his favour, because your father won’t look past his fucking wallet.” He spat bitterly. “He takes one look at me and scoffs at the idea that I could even know how to love somebody like you.”

“But I know you can. That’s the important thing.” He smiled and pressed a kiss to his head. “As soon as we’re engaged, I can buy us a flat somewhere nice, and he’ll learn to love you. He’ll learn to love you when he sees how much happier you make me.”

Freddie let himself be swallowed up by Jim’s arms, let his worries fade into insignificance with just how nice it felt to have somebody to lean on. “The shower will be going cold.” He murmured.

“It doesn’t go cold.” Jim chuckled. “It’s hot for however long you have it on.”

“I think that sounds better than a blowjob right now.” Freddie smiled and let his fingers work on Jim’s work shirt. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“If you’re going to be my husband, then it’s my job to listen to you.” The sound of the words made Freddie shiver as his fingers worked quickly over his belt.

“God, that sounds weird.” He whispered. “Husband.”

“I mean, nothing says we ever have to actually get married. We could just be engaged for a really long time, and if we broke up I’m sure it would be the weirdest relationship either of us had ever been in.” Jim let Freddie unbutton and unzip his slacks and he kicked them off. “You know, I’m glad I get to see you like this first.”

The wicked look was back on his face when Freddie looked up from pushing away his own jeans; it was as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, just for a few hours. He was soft, he was allowed to be vulnerable under Jim’s fingers, and yet there was still a sparkle of rebellion behind his eyes.

Jim adored it.

“See what you’re getting yourself in for?” He winked as he let his briefs fall to the floor; he stretched his arms up overhead, bold and unafraid. “I promise I’m partial to walking around like this if I drink too much vodka.”

Jim laughed and wrapped his arms around his waist once he’d lost his socks and boxers; he wanted to feel, just for a moment, what the press of their bare skin against one another would feel like. Freddie let out an ecstatic sigh and let his head fall back, only smiling wider when lips pressed to his jaw. “I couldn’t ask for more, my darling.” Jim murmured, pressing another kiss to the hollow of his throat. 

“It’s as much as you’ll be getting tonight.” He laughed as he moved away and into the shower; Jim stood still for a few moments, watching the way the water droplets smoothed over the curve of his shoulder blades and made his hair heavy, plastered to his skin. “Are you coming in or not?” He asked, looking over his shoulder.

“I’ve never taken a shower with someone before.” He admitted, walking in behind Freddie and winding his arms around him from behind; he couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to the join between the back of his neck and his shoulder. “I didn’t realise it was so- so-”

“Intimate?” Freddie supplied, turning around so that they were nose to nose; he only smiled when Jim pushed him gently back against the wall, one hand next to his head, and kissed him again. “What did you do with that boyfriend of yours besides eat and fuck, hm? He seems to have forgotten many of the best experiences in life are free.”

“He liked a whiskey at a sleazy gentleman’s club where all the waitresses were topless.” Jim chuckled. “Makes him sound like something from a 1920s porno.”

“Sounds to me as though he was.” Freddie laughed and closed his eyes, humming with pleasure at the simple feeling of the warm water running over his tired muscles. 

Jim chuckled, the sound mellifluous and gorgeous, as he reached for the shampoo; he poured some into his palm and slowly massaged it through Freddie’s hair. “I promise I won’t suck at this.”

“I think it’s impossible to suck at washing hair, unless you haven’t showered for the last twenty years.” Freddie kept his eyes closed, his forehead resting against Jim’s collarbone as he worked the soap through his hair. “What makes you so good, then?”

“For about four years I thought I was going to be a hairdresser.” He let his fingers drop down to massage the back of Freddie’s neck, and he could’ve sworn he purred. The image of the white cat reflected through his mind again, the cat with cream around his lips - simple acts of affection and love were Freddie’s cream.

“Finance is a little bit of a downgrade, isn’t it?” Freddie laughed sleepily.

“I wasn’t making any money cutting hair for a living, and I got a sixty grand starting salary because it’s the same place that Dad’s worked for the last forty years.” He shrugged. “And in this world, you’re considered a fucking idiot if you don’t take it.”

“I think I’d let someone pull out all my teeth with no anaesthetic for sixty grand.” Freddie tilted his head back to let the soap run out, enjoying the feeling of allowing himself the indulgence of being looked after for a little while. “In fact, there aren’t many things I wouldn’t do. I’d be a whore if I could earn sixty grand in a year.”

“Freddie.” Jim admonished, laughing a little.

“What was it that you said?” He asked after a few moments. “The luxury to love me slowly. Most men don’t believe in that.”

“I don’t want to rush with you.” He whispered. “I want to discover you bit by bit. Like, I would have never thought that you’d love forehead kisses, but here we are.”

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Freddie looked up at him and grinned. “I fucking love forehead kisses.”

“I suppose you did refer to yourself as an attention whore.” He chuckled. “So, baby, what else do you need from me?”

Freddie smiled languidly at the nickname. “A little dinner might be nice.” He watched as Jim took the body wash, taking enough between his palms so that it was lathering before it even touched the curve of his chest.

“Have you not eaten dinner tonight?” He frowned. “I didn’t realise it was so bad again.”

“I haven’t eaten since Tuesday, darling, tonight is nothing.” Freddie closed his eyes as Jim washed over his shoulders, over his back, over his arms. 

“That’s three days.” He whispered. “Nothing at all?”

“Some peanuts behind the bar, and half a sandwich someone sent back at the cafe.” He shivered, ticklish, when Jim’s hand skimmed his stomach. “The money ran out again.”

“Fucking hell, Freddie.” Jim cupped his cheek, and his eyes opened heavily. “Baby, you have to tell me if something like that happens again. You can’t be working eighteen-hour days hungry.”

“I work eighteen hours so I don’t have to go hungry. I’m just waiting for payday.” He smiled; Jim considered that the strangeness that evening, the heaviness, the tiredness, had to do with putting himself last, with making do with so little. “Next Thursday.”

“That’s six days.” He said quietly. “What are you going to do until then?”

“Smoke.” Freddie stretched out, smiling as though he’d said something funny, but Jim was horrified.

“You can’t like the feeling.” He insisted.

“What, of my eyesight going funny every time I stand up and being sick from how nauseous it makes me feel? No, darling, I don’t like how it feels. But right now, I’m a vessel for making money, and I can’t afford to feel hungry or tired, so I don’t.” He stepped backwards into the warm water again and took a long breath.

“I’m not having you go hungry.” Jim said immediately. “How much does your family need for six days? Two hundred?”

Freddie mused for a moment on just how warped his perception of money really was; they could do six days on five pounds if they were desperate. “I can’t be in debt to a man I’m going to marry.” He replied.

“It’s not debt, Freddie, Christ. It’s not like I need it for anything.” He pulled him closer, hands more insistent, and Freddie let himself go for a moment; he never allowed himself the luxury of slowing down, of being supported by someone. “I can’t marry you if you’re in hospital with malnutrition.”

“I suppose it would be a minor obstacle.” He drawled sleepily.

“Come on, you obstinate bastard.” Jim started to smile again and tilted his head up, forcing him to open his eyes. “I’ll make you some dinner now, and you can take a couple of hundred home for your family, okay? How much is the electric bill?”

“Jim, honestly-” Freddie started, cheeks heating.

“I asked you a question.” He arched an eyebrow.

“It’s a hundred and twenty.” He replied, shaking his head a little.

“Right, so two hundred for food and a hundred and twenty for the electric. How does that sound?” He asked seriously.

“It sounds wonderful, darling, but we really won’t spend two hundred on food any time soon.” Freddie insisted.

“Well, spend it on something else, then. And don’t go hungry when the money runs out.” He tapped Freddie’s nose, as though he was chastising a child, and Freddie couldn’t help but smile. “Come to me. Understand?”

“Yes, darling. I understand.” He whispered. He faltered for a moment, as though the words took a bigger effort than any other, and then he let himself go. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Jim leaned over and turned the water off; in seconds, Freddie was wrapped in two fluffy towels, looking so happy and so child-like as he grinned from underneath them. 

“You get yourself dried and dressed, I’ll go and find something for you to eat. As I said, I’m not a chef, so don’t expect too much.” Jim kissed his cheek, relishing in how big the smile he received in return was.

* * *

By the time he’d made Freddie something to eat - he’d settled on tea and toast, figuring that he would appreciate the simple home comforts - and he’d walked back upstairs, Freddie was curled up on top of his covers, buried in a pair of his pajamas that were at least a size too big. The neckline draped over one of his shoulders, and Jim could see that he’d turned up the cuffs around the ankle; he’d also stolen a pair of socks from Jim’s drawer. As soon as he looked over him, he knew he was fast asleep: a damp lock of hair fluttered on his cheek with each soft breath, looking oh-so-peaceful. 

“Freddie, baby-” Jim rested a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. “I got you something to eat.”

He rolled over, bringing his hands up to his face for a moment while he stretched, and then smiled through a yawn. “Thank you, lovie.” He sat up, cross legged, and the shirt slid further off his shoulder.

“It’s nice to see you relaxing for once in your damn life.” Jim chuckled as he sat opposite Freddie, cradling his own mug in his hands. “Every time I see you, you’re frantic for one reason or another.”

“I have to remember that I have human needs sometimes.” He chuckled, tearing a piece off of the bread and chewing slowly. “Do you want to share?” He offered, holding the plate out to Jim.

It caught Jim somewhere close to his heart - he cared enough for him to offer him food, even when he knew Jim had eaten as much as he liked that day. “It’s all yours, darling.” He smiled. He reached under his bed for a box of chocolates - it was almost ridiculous, more than he could ever eat in a year - and rested it on the silk sheets. “You can help me with these, if you like.”

“What flavour?” He asked hopefully, finishing off his first piece and dusting crumbs from his fingers.

“There’s all kinds. I like the fruity ones, I’ve eaten the orange and strawberry and coconut ones, but I’m not so much of a fan of the nutty ones.” He shrugged. “But you can have whichever you like.” He added, picking up another orange one and popping it in his mouth.

“You don’t like nutty chocolate?” Freddie asked through a mouthful of toast.

“I’m not sure about chocolate that crunches. It’s a weird texture.” He laughed and moved so that he was beside him, winding an arm around his waist; Freddie’s body seemed to fit into the contours of his own, made to fit in his arms. 

“I’m not sure I can marry you if you don’t like nutty chocolate.” Freddie grinned, picking up his mug and sipping it. His eyes went wide and he smiled even wider, his cheeks reddening a little. “You made me Earl Grey.”

“It’s your favourite, of course I made you Earl Grey.” He chuckled. “Now, think about it, every time we get a box of chocolates, there’ll never be any fighting about who gets what.”

“What do you think of fudge and caramel?” Freddie asked, as though it was the most important thing he needed to know of a possible future husband.

“I like caramel, but I’m not a big fan of fudge.” He chuckled.

Freddie surveyed the little guide and picked out a fudge, chewing it slowly and reverently as though he was tasting heaven. “I bet you’re the kind of freak who’d choose coffee chocolate.”

“Hey!” Jim laughed. “It’s nice!”

Freddie put down his mug and put his empty plate on the floor - Jim made him feel easy, happy, as though there was nothing he had to prove. He didn’t have to act like a housekeeper to make him show his love. “You’re a freak, my dear.”

He laughed a little as Jim pushed him down onto the bed; he straddled his hips and plucked a fudge out of the box. He held it just out of his reach, grinning as though he was so proud of himself. “If you want your favourite, then you have to be nice to me.”

“That’s blackmail, darling.” Freddie grinned, though he licked his lips. 

“It’s encouraging healthy relationship behaviour.” He retaliated, watching how Freddie’s eyes followed the chocolate. “Be nice to me.”

Freddie rolled his eyes and grinned. “I think you’re a wonderful person, even if you do have a terrible taste in chocolate.”

Jim laughed and shook his head. “No way, that’s not nice enough.”

“I know you get off on my being a little wicked, my dear.” Freddie rested the back of his head on the palms of his hands as though peacefully sunbathing, as though he was totally unaware of the weight of another man sat on his hips. “You’ve got to have something to think about when you’re all alone in an awfully big house.”

Jim’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “Freddie!”

“And yet, he doesn’t deny it.” He narrated. “You like it when I don’t do what you want me to. You want me to be different to everything you can imagine.”

The fudge tasted divine as it was pressed easily between softly parted lips; Freddie chewed the taste of his success happily. “You can read a beautiful man like a book, darling.” Freddie told him. “Or maybe a pamphlet. You’re awfully easy to understand and condition.”

“Why can’t I read you, then?” Jim asked, leaning down to kiss his lips; he tasted of decadent chocolate, a taste Jim wanted to chase for the rest of their days together. 

“You’re simply out of practice.” He winked. “And besides, you summed it up when you called me an attention whore. Why do you think I came here in the first place?”

“There was me, thinking you wanted my company.” He replied, though his grin was happy.

“Oh, darling, that’s it. I want you to forget that anybody other than me exists in this world.” He stretched out under Jim, making him hyper-aware of the shift of muscles beneath him. “I want every little bit of your untarnished attention on me.”

“Why pick me for the job?” Jim asked, smoothing a hand over Freddie’s shoulder, collarbone, chest. 

“There have been some truly terrible candidates, my dear.” He drawled; he let his eyes close as his lips closed on a praline. “You’ve passed the tests, of course.”

“The tests?” He asked.

“You managed not to be beside yourself with jealousy in the club, and you worked out that it was the element of show and misbehaviour that I wanted to show you.” He started. “And then you led me into a world that I want to be a part of, without making me feel like it’s beyond me or that I don’t deserve it. And then, when I turn up tired and hungry on your doorstep, you shower me and feed me and put all my pieces back together.”

“Do you consider yourself in need of fixing?” He asked curiously.

“Only my needs, darling, nothing more.” He breathed, heavy eyes opening to look over him. “Aside from that, I’m fucking brilliant. I just need the rest of the world to see that too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honest to God reading all the hype for this fic makes me insanely happy thank you guys!!


	11. A Night at the Odeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irresistibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot twist is coming and I am beyond fucking excited I hope you are too I can barely wait and I know what's happening
> 
> A lot of smut in this one - watch out if you're avoiding that!

He’d flicked through a back catalogue of old NME issues, all in preparation for that evening; he’d absorbed every word that he could to prepare himself for the reality of live music when it wasn’t just a gentle backdrop, but it was the main event - he was beside himself with excitement at the prospect of seeing his lover putting on a show for all the world to see.

The tickets had been cheap, barely a few pounds, but the venue had sold out in less than a day with thousands of demanding letters and phone calls for spare tickets, backstage passes, meet and greets. He’d only gotten his ticket because Freddie had thrown a smile in the right direction, placating a roadie as he leaned over an amp with that same wicked, feral smile on his face that had gotten him every luxury in his life so far.

It was the third Saturday in a row that he’d palmed Tom off with the excuse of working overtime, a whining protest telling him that he was failing to play his part in the game properly, but he was so swept in the presence of  _ Freddie fucking Mercury  _ that he’d lost his ability to process the rest of the world.

They’d been moved to a bigger venue a day before the event was supposed to happen, still too small to placate everyone who had vied for tickets: they’d gone from a couple of hundred to thousands, a dirty bar to an odeon with lights that Freddie had meticulously planned out, soft spotlights and red lights when he wanted to play up the curve of his sex appeal.

And suddenly, Jim understood why people wanted to see him.

He was irresistible as he cavorted around the stage; he sparkled in the low light, his chest painted with a sheen of sweat from the exertion of keeping a crowd so engaged-

How he managed it so flawlessly, Jim would never know, but they clung to his every word, every gesture, every move.

The diamonds on his leotard were incandescent, blinding, and Jim could only watch, his mouth dry, as he watched his lover do what he did best.

_ Whatever came of you and me, _

_ America's new bride to be? _

_ Don't worry babe, I'm safe and sound- _

The wink made his cheeks hot and he looked down at his fingers, sliding off his old engagement ring and pocketing it quickly. He could never again wear one that hadn’t been given to him by Freddie.

_ Master, I'm gonna be your slave _

_ Mama, I'm gonna try behave _

_ Mama, gonna be your slave _

_ I'm gonna serve you till your dying day. _

He was pressed against the front of the stage, almost so hot it was unbearable, and yet it gave Freddie the opportunity to titillate him in whichever way he saw fit: those platform boots would come within inches of his fingers and he couldn’t help it if he dropped to his knees right there in front of him, back arching as he lay down. It had been too many months without the energy of the stage, too many months and too much sexual tension, too much teasing and not enough taking: Freddie wanted the attention of every man in the room on him, raking collarbones, chest, nipples, the lewd curve of his ass in tight trousers.

Jim thought he was fucking irresistible.

To not be able to reach out and grab him was a physical ache - he wondered if maybe, somehow, that could be the night they descended further into debauchery than kisses.

He could barely breathe through the rest of the set; though he was the only one who couldn’t scream the lyrics back at him, he made up for it in the spin of his head, the way his eyes glued to Freddie as though he was a vision, a dream, maybe a nightmare-

_ I don't pop my cork for every man I see, _

_ Hey big spender- _

_ Spend a little time with me? _

Freddie’s voice dripped with sensuality, but it was his actions that left Jim stunned- he’d come out onto the stage in a long kimono, draped elegantly over his shoulders and tied tightly around his waist. 

He could only watch as Freddie leisurely untied it and let it fall to the floor around him.

He’d expected almost anything - this was Freddie Mercury, and he didn’t believe in predictability - but what he hadn’t expected was his lover to emerge from the smoke in a little cropped t-shirt and the same lacy briefs that Jim had bought him only two weeks earlier. 

He strutted out on the stage, long legs on show for everyone who wanted to rake their eyes over every little piece of his figure, forever confident in himself and the sway of his hips. He knew he was irresistible, and the stunned quiet and the wolf whistles from the audience only confirmed his suspicions - it was a feedback loop of debauchery, one that made Freddie tip his head back in ecstasy.

Jim wanted to make him do the same.

An hour and a half of Freddie Mercury was enough to make anybody go crazy, he reasoned; a smirk crossed his face when he knew he could have longer, so much longer.

* * *

Freddie leaned into the mirror in the dressing room, eyes bright, out of breath and happy and buzzing with energy. “That was fucking incredible.” He laughed and stretched out, before he landed on one of the sofas. He closed his eyes and rested his head over the arm, lewdly sprawled over the bare expanse of space. “I think I need a cigarette and a blowjob to be able to sleep tonight.”

Jim winked at Roger as he came into the room, placing the golden filter of a Treasurer between his lips and lighting it. It was only once he’d taken a drag, revelling in the smoothness he took into his lungs, that his eyes opened languidly, and he grinned up at his lover. “You took your time.”

“I was here quick enough to hear the demands for a cigarette and a blowjob.” He grinned and leaned down to kiss him; he was struck by the fire in Freddie, the energy still radiating off of him.

“How much can you provide?” He asked, dropping his voice down a tone.

“Depends on if you can get us somewhere alone.” He replied, kissing him again, until Freddie grabbed his hand and pulled him to standing.

The door to Freddie’s dressing room slammed as Freddie was pushed against it, a delighted gasp leaving his lips. “How long have you wanted to do this for?” He asked, voice teasing, as Jim kissed over his pulse point on his neck.

“Weeks.” He murmured, cupping Freddie through his briefs and smirking when he moaned in return. “Almost as long as you, I think.”

“Would’ve jumped you weeks ago.” He murmured, tugging on Jim’s hair as he bit at his collarbone. His other hand brought the cigarette back to his lips, leaving it there decadently - a cigarette so good wasn’t worth wasting in ash. “Come on, motherfucker, put your money where your mouth is.”

Jim smirked and roughly pinched his nipple through his shirt, making Freddie’s hips jump. “What’s the matter, baby?” He teased. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Get on your fucking knees.” Freddie gasped as he roughly pressed the heel of his hand against his cock; he couldn’t help the lewd roll of his hips into the friction.

“I don’t think you make the demands around here, darling.” Jim whispered in his ear, watching as he rocked his hips into his palm. “That’s it, baby, come on.”

Freddie had to hold the cigarette to the side as he dropped his forehead onto Jim’s shoulder, letting himself chase his release so desperately. Jim pushed his shoulder up a little, making his head fall back against the door instead, cheeks flushed and lips parted and wet. “I want to see you, baby, can you do that for me?”

Freddie melted like butter between his fingers. “Jim, please-” He whispered.

“Can you?” He asked, softening his own pace as he pressed his fingers just behind Freddie’s balls, the rough fabric dragging over his cock as he did so.

“Yeah.” He gasped, his legs shaking. “Please, please, darling, I’m begging you.”

“Oh, you do beg so prettily.” He kissed the shell of his ear and then dropped to his knees, yanking the briefs down quickly. He took Freddie’s cock in his hand, feeling as he strained to keep his hips back, and leisurely licked a line base to tip - he took a moment to calm his racing heart, unable to believe that this was really happening - and then closed his mouth around the tip.

Freddie was panting as he sunk down slowly, steadying his hand on Jim’s shoulder at the feeling of his throat tightening around him. “Jim-” He moaned lewdly, his head falling back. “Oh, fuck, please-”

He bobbed his head slowly, staying deep, and Freddie couldn’t help grabbing onto his hair to make him go faster; he felt so maddeningly good that Freddie couldn’t imagine lasting more than thirty seconds. He was expecting punishment, denial, but Jim moaned and pushed himself down to the base, letting Freddie guide the pace-

He shoved the cigarette back in the corner of his mouth and clasped both hands in his hair, jacking his hips steadily as the heat built in his core; moans escaped in puffs of smoke as ecstasy rose up over him. He cried out, the sound muffled, as the palm of his hand cupped his balls, pads of his fingers rubbing over his taint- he bore down on it, encouraging harder, jacking his hips forward faster, trying not to choke him-

He cried out as Jim pressed harder and swallowed around him, the feeling tightening deliciously around the head of his cock; he slammed his hips once, twice, and cried out as his world erupted in a feeling of pure bliss.

The cigarette had burned down to the filter by the time he was able to open his eyes, barely even feeling like a real person - his body hummed with the satisfaction and relaxation of a good orgasm and he smiled as though he’d been drugged.

Jim had already tucked him back in, and was holding him up as his legs trembled. “Did you need that, darling?” He teased, though his voice had lost its low, sultry edge - he sounded playful and sweet, and Freddie couldn’t help his dopey grin widening.

“You wouldn’t believe how long it is since I last got sucked off.” He murmured, dropping the end of his cigarette on the floor and collapsing into Jim’s arms. “God, that was good.”

“See, eating and fucking does have its benefits.” Jim kissed his temple and sat them both down on the sofa. 

“How you didn’t choke is a fucking mystery to me, darling.” Freddie leaned up to kiss him, though Jim’s kisses were a little shy, as though he didn’t know if Freddie would be disgusted by the taste on his lips.

“Never had a gag reflex.” He grinned. “Has its perks.”

“Lucky bastard.” Freddie’s fingers gestured towards his belt. “Do you need..?”

“Not right now, darling.” He pressed another kiss to his lips. “Kind of difficult to stay hard with that much cock in your throat.”

Freddie’s cheeks flushed. “God, I’m-”

“Don’t you dare say sorry.” Jim kissed him again, a little more heat behind it. “I fucking loved it, darling, every second. And I’m sure I won’t be able to get enough of you later.” He grinned.

“Where are we going?” Freddie asked. “Yours?”

“Not mine. Tom’s around and pissed off, and he’s got a key. We don’t need that shit.” He kissed him when Freddie leaned up for another. “I bought us a hotel room.”

“I’m a proper illicit lover now.” Freddie smirked. “You know, I’ve never had a guy tell me I’m not allowed to make demands before. I’m always told I’m very demanding.”

“Well, it worked a treat on you. I wanted to see if you’d let me take my time with you.” Jim smirked. “Which you kind of did, but only within your parameters.”

“I’m the one that’s just whored myself out in order to get a blowjob this evening.” Freddie laughed. “I worked for it.”

“You were a vision, darling, and I consider myself very lucky that I’m the one that got to taste you.” He winked. “Now, come on, get your shit together and we can go. You won’t be needing a shower just yet.”

* * *

Freddie didn’t know what ridiculous hour of the morning it was; all he knew was that his thighs ached from riding Jim’s cock, that he was sweaty and delirious and that he’d been made to come more times than he thought was possible. He lay back on the hotel bed - it was a nice one, plush and soft, an expensive luxury suite for the night - and rolled his head side to side, finally letting his eyes open from his half-doze to watch Jim as he walked around the room naked.

“I’ll marry you.” Freddie smiled, happy and heavy and content.

Jim laughed and looked over at him. “Now you know you’ll be provided for?”

“Something like that.” Freddie reached for the cigarettes on the counter and lit another one. “Tonight’s been the best night in a long time.”

  
  
“Couldn’t agree more.” Jim lay beside him and pulled him into his arms, relishing in the press of bare, warm skin against his own. “You’re absolutely magical up there, you know? I don’t know how you do it.”

“I like to think I’m like a car crashing in slow motion. It’s like they can’t look away no matter how much they want to.” He laughed and blew smoke at the ceiling before he placed the cigarette between Jim’s lips. “I hope you know you’ve given me a taste for these, now.”

“I changed my order to include enough packets for you, too.” Jim chuckled and pulled Freddie even closer, until his cheek was cushioned against his chest and one of his legs was thrown over both of Jim’s. “Got to make sure I provide for my baby.”

Freddie grinned sleepily. “Tell me you love me.” He whispered.

“I love you.” Jim whispered, carding his fingers through his hair - it was thicker now, and his body was warmer - he wasn’t starving any longer. “I love you, Freddie Mercury, you fucking devil.”

“I love you too.” Freddie sighed happily and snuggled against him. “I think I can die happy now.”

“If I’d have known you loved sex this much, I would’ve suggested it weeks ago.” Jim laughed. “When we buy our flat, I’ll get us a huge bed.”

“Can we have silk sheets like yours?” Freddie asked hopefully. “And a nice thick crunchy quilt for winter?”

What to Freddie were luxuries, seemed mere necessities to Jim; he couldn’t believe his lover asked for so little. “What else would you like, baby?” He asked.

“A big huge bathtub that we can both fit in.” Freddie smiled and closed his eyes just thinking about it. “A Bechstein in the lounge.”

“I think we can manage that.” He chuckled. “I’d like a nice fire, too, and a garden that I can grow some flowers in.”

“I’d just like constant electricity and water, really.” He admitted, though he still smiled. “I can make do with anything else.”

“Oh, this is going to be the house of our dreams.” Jim insisted. “Millions, I don’t care, just so we can have a lovely home of our own.”

“Can we get a cat?” Freddie asked softly. “I used to have a couple but I had to take them to shelters when I moved out of my flat. I miss them every day.” 

“We can see if we can get them back.” He kissed Freddie’s forehead soothingly. “And we could get some kittens.”

“I can see myself wandering through our house in a kimono with lots of little cats following me.” Freddie grinned, happy and child-like. “That’s the dream.”

“We can start looking once we’re engaged.” Jim closed his eyes as he finished off the cigarette and left it to smoulder in the ashtray. “How much did you earn for that gig?”

“Five hundred in tickets.” Freddie grinned. “And that’s after fees. I might finally have something I can use on a deposit for a ring.” He sighed happily. “And now there’s talk of us doing another gig, because this one sold so well.”

“It’s all looking up, baby.” He squeezed Freddie softly and laughed when he kissed his pec. “I love you.”

* * *

The next morning, a bouquet of yellow roses appear on his front doorstep, twined in satin pink ribbon with a little note hanging from them.

_ Working every day for the rest of my adult life. Be back soon. Don’t forget about me. Love Mercury x _


	12. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's so tired of men falling in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick TW on racist slurs here!

Something about the atmosphere bit itself into his heart; tired feet, dragging, bloodied and bruised from all their walking, suddenly became light again; tired eyes lit up with an internal fire; pale lips reddened from biting, teasing, and lip gloss. He got the same thrill as he got up on the stage, the thrill of being wanted, pursued, desired: he could be as theatrical as he liked, blood pumping as he commanded a crowd of sleazy men with an arch of the back and a flick of the tongue, promising more that he would never, ever give them.

He had six glasses lined up, pouring the drinks so quickly the sight of his hands blurred - about two shots of vodka in each, coke and lemonade and orange juice, cranberry, champagne in the end one, his mind ticking through the orders like a metronome, keeping him on task, keeping him focused.

“Yours, darling.” He smiled, planting the glass down in front of a stranger; his dark pout looked wicked in the low light: he was ethereal, armed with the smile of Satan before his fall. He promised so much, gave away so little, and his presence was magnetic - if he wanted a man to lick the bottom of his shoe clean, he knew he’d have more than one willing.

“How much, baby?” He asked, dragging his eyes over the lithe cut of the boy’s throat as he looked upwards. He was so fragile, unblemished, made like glazed porcelain - the skin of a whore rarely bruised, he had once laughed.

“How much do you want to pay?” Freddie teased, reaching for a bottle in the fridge behind him and deliberately bending to pay attention to the lewd curve of his ass.

“It depends exactly what I’m buying.” He replied, crossing his arms, the smile on his face both amused and aroused. 

Freddie slid the bottle across the bar to Roger, and then paused, as though contemplative; the way the light caught the backs of his eyes made him look like an angel, sparkling in the low light. “My eternal love and gratitude?” He grinned. “And your drink, of course.”

Freddie knew these patrons, the ones that had heard from friends of friends about a sleazy little bar in downtown Soho where the bartenders could make your wildest dreams come true; they were the patrons that would press blunts between his lips, slip Sobranies across the bar, the ones that wanted to see if they could be the ones to twist him, bend him, break him.

The fifty slid across the bar with practised precision and Freddie smirked, pretending to fan himself with it before he pocketed it with a wink. “You’re an angel.” He purred.

“How much time?” He asked, leaning further over the bar.

“Oh, darling!” Freddie stepped down the queue. “Nobody can pay for my time, darling, not a dime. The only thing you can purchase is a slot in my dreams tonight.”

“Oh, baby.” He sighed. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

They’d taken to calling him baby, right down from the sleaziest patrons to the other bartenders; he responded more quickly to _baby_ than he did his own name. “I know exactly what I do to you.” He picked up a line of notes along the bar, all the men he’d served, and idly threw coins of change towards them that were hastily pushed back in his direction. “My, aren’t I being spoiled tonight?”

He’d made the best part of two hundred in tips, and the thrill kept him awake when he hadn’t slept more than five hours in the past few days; the thrill filled his grumbling stomach until the time later that he’d go out for afternoon tea with Jim. He sucked the energy from others to keep himself going, an existential black hole; he drained the life out of people in a haze of excitement and late nights, until they found themselves asleep at their desks the following morning.

One drink became two, became five, became ten. Singles became doubles, ten percent tips became fifties, the odd hundred, increasingly lewd suggestions for money.

The boy behind the bar never said no, not to snorting lines of cocaine off the dirty bar top, not to taking shots of forty percent liquor: he was like watching a car crash, they thought. He was impossible to look away from, no matter how much they wanted to. He’d charge them to watch his death, they were sure. 

He was so debauched, so wicked, that it should’ve felt as though it were coming soon; yet, he felt so ethereal, as though his body was of little consequence: he’d never die. He never seemed to get drunk, nor high, even when they tried their best; he deflected any and every bit of attention, making the addictive thrill of dark eyes all the stronger.

“Who’s next?” He called, leaning on the bar; the next man, a beautiful blonde, came nose-to-nose with him and grinned. 

“I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks, baby.” He looked him over appreciatively. “I’ll let you choose the one.”

“Oh, darling, I have an awfully expensive taste.” He pouted just a little, soft, sweet, irresistible. “Are you sure that’s a wise decision?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been.” He reached out to touch Freddie’s hair, and Freddie let him; it was rare he allowed the men to touch him, but the man seemed happy to part with any ridiculous amount of money he spent. A lock of hair was gently pushed out of his face and he smirked as it fell back in his eyes, arching an eyebrow. 

“If you’re sure!” He stood up and twirled as he reached for the most expensive whiskey on the shelf; it painted light gold on the three cubes of ice in the glass as he poured it generously.

“Are you single, baby?” He asked, watching the long line of his legs as he stood on his toes to put the bottle back. Freddie couldn’t help rolling his eyes: these men were so predictable.

He simpered up to it all the same. “Yes, darling.” He replied; he was confident in being alone, being available. The appeal came in possibility, chance, and he wouldn’t kill it with a misjudged phrase.

“You should kiss me.” He replied immediately.

Freddie placed the glass between them and leaned on his elbow. “You’ll have to wait until I’ve had a few more drinks for that.” He winked.

“Like what you see?” He asked, chest broadening with pride.

“Oh, who wouldn’t?” He teased. “That’s thirty pounds, please, darling.”

Another fifty carelessly thrown across the bar; Freddie was on fire that evening. “I’ll be back for you, baby.” He replied, picking up Freddie’s hand and dropping a kiss on it.

“I’m sure you will!” He sang as he moved into the back room: he cashed up the fifties in there so that he had the money to put in the till for the drinks he’d sold, and put the rest in his back pocket. It felt good and snug there, safe, ambitious.

His heart was pounding with the addictive adrenaline, the thrill; his hands shook incessantly, the same high as when he was on stage, and he took a moment to smooth himself out. He went into the bathroom for the sake of washing the lips of the last man off of himself, and reapplied his lip gloss in the mirror.

_If only Jim could see me now._

He went out into the bar and poured himself a glass of water, gulping it down quickly to stave off the ache in his throat that hit when it hit the small hours of the morning; he stayed hidden in a corner behind Roger, just watching, surveying the crowd, picking out targets with big wallets and loose strings-

He lost his breath when he scanned the back corner.

Jim lay on a sofa in the corner, head tilted towards the heavens, precariously balancing a large, generous, expensive whiskey on the rocks in his hand: and in his lap, a man oh-so-familiar.

The beautiful blonde was Tom.

“Oh, fuck.” He whispered, watching as they shared languid, drunken kisses; he only dragged his eyes away when Jim’s eyes fell lazily over the bar. He busied himself with the next customer, his heart only pounding harder as he kept up the act.

They’d always said he was a damn siren, and now he was about to wreck his first ship.

* * *

Blonde hair fell in blue eyes this time, and money was thrown across the bar before Freddie had even turned to him. “Whiskey on the rocks.”

“Manners, darling.” Freddie chided playfully, though a deep fear of the uncontrollable rooted itself in his stomach; he picked up the note and inspected it. “Anything for yourself?”

Tom surveyed him again for a second. “How did you know it wasn’t for me?”

Freddie’s cheeks flushed a little and he turned around to reach for the bottle. “Oh, no reason!” He sang. “I thought a man as lovely as you wouldn’t be here on his own.”

The eyes on him were suspicious, Freddie could tell, even though he didn’t dare look at him as he poured another glass, equally as generous. “How about that kiss now, darling?”

“Still not drunk enough, I’m afraid.” He said playfully. “I’d get fired for that.”

“I’ll look after you.” He replied, resolute; Freddie couldn’t help if his eyes slid back to where Jim sat - his gaze was intense on Freddie, heavy. 

“Oh, I couldn’t expect you to do something like that!” He focused back on Tom and smiled, leaning on the bar. “I’m sure you have eligible boys throwing themselves at your feet-”

_You fucking emotionally unavailable, cheating bastard,_ he wanted to add.

“Come on, baby.” He whined. “I’ve given you all this money, I’ll give you more, is that what you want-”

“It’s really not about-”

“Then what is it?” He shouted, and Freddie’s eyes widened a little: men rarely made a scene with him, only the ones that were impossible to please, the ones for whom nothing was ever good enough. “Am I not good enough for you, is that it? You’re lucky I even noticed a fucking paki in the first place.”

Freddie stood, stunned, and then his face darkened - he didn’t care how much he wanted to stay in Jim’s good books, how much the defence of alcohol could be used. He hated that man.

He slammed a glass down so hard on the bar that it shattered. “You know the reason I won’t kiss you?” He asked bluntly, knowing that half the bar was watching his every move. “I’m fucking your fiancé.”

He stood silently, glaring at Freddie, who just smirked. “Don’t like a taste of your own medicine?” He teased.

“You didn’t even know I was in a relationship.” He replied. “You’re making it up.”

“He’s called Jim Hutton.” Freddie leaned on the bar, slicing his hand on the glass, but the adrenaline was so high that he barely even noticed. “And he works in finance, and he lives in Chelsea, and he’s got a fucking huge cock that I had the pleasure of riding on all night long, even when you were in London.”

“You whore.” He breathed.

“You wish, darling.” Freddie smirked. “Why do you think he turns you down on dates? Why do you think he never wanted to get engaged to you in the first place?”

“You’re a fucking liar!” He shouted.

“A nice big fourteen grand ring with a huge solitaire diamond in it.” He smirked. “He jacked me off while he was wearing it. You fucked him while you had my damn cologne all over his sheets, and you’ve probably kissed my damn lipstick off of his lips. He doesn’t give a fuck about you.”

“What’s going on?” Jim asked, shoving through the crowd to get between them. At the sight of the shattered glass and Freddie’s blood, his eyes widened. “What the fuck?”

“Is it true?” Tom turned to Jim. “Is it all true?”

“Is what true?” Jim asked, alarmed.

“That you’d choose a slutty fucking paki over a handsome English bigot, darling.” Freddie crossed his arms. “That you’d wear my scent on your skin while you let him fuck you.”

“Freddie..” Jim’s voice softened a little.

“Is it true?” Freddie prompted again. “Go on, baby, tell me you love me. Now more than ever.”

“I can’t fucking believe this.” Tom spat. “Go on, then, if it’s true. Tell him you love him.”

Jim looked between them for a moment, his heart pounding, and then swallowed hard. His eyes caught the fire in Freddie’s eyes, the beautiful delicate curls of his hair, the serpentine smile he wore; cold, alcoholic, emotionless glances could never live up to it.

“I love you.” He breathed, the words like a sigh of relief; the impossibly wide smile on Freddie’s face made the words feel good, true, right.

“That’s my baby.” Freddie teased, leaning over the bar to grab his collar; he pulled him into a kiss and laughed when he felt the press of Jim’s smile against his own.

“You’re fucking disgusting. You’re both fucking disgusting.” Tom spat, grabbing Jim’s hand to tear them apart.

“Oh, darling, you would’ve fucked me if I’d said yes. You would’ve left Jim in the fucking dirt if I’d spread my legs for you.” Freddie smiled. “I’m no whore. I think you’ll find I know what it’s like to be loyal to one man, and it’s just a shame for you that you don’t.”

* * *

A hand clasped his as he grabbed his jacket, and Freddie laughed as Jim kissed incessantly at the back of his neck. “It feels so good.” Jim murmured. “I get to love you properly now.”

“I don’t have to pretend about anything anymore.” He sighed happily and turned around in his lover’s arms, kissing him softly. “I can love you openly.”

“I mean, my father’s going to blow his fucking brains out when he finds out, but who gives a fuck?” He laughed, so happy, open, relieved, and pressed Freddie against the wall to kiss him again. “Come home with me?”

“I have to go to work, baby.” Freddie smiled at his bereft look and pressed a soft kiss to his lips to placate him. “I start work in twenty minutes.”

“Come home with me.” He said again. “I’ll call in sick, we can dance around the house wearing silk and listen to ridiculous music. I got all the things in to try and bake those cookies you wanted to try.”

“I have to work!” Freddie laughed. “I can’t get fired. I have a day off on Sunday, we can do it then.”

“Fuck work.” Jim cupped his cheek. “We’re going to get engaged, and then you’ll never have to work any of these shitty jobs again.”

“And how am I going to pay for the ring, hm?” Freddie teased. “What are you going to do when they fire me?”

“You know I’ll always look after you.” He murmured.

“You’re going to pay for your own engagement ring?” Freddie laughed. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“You could earn that just on this one, though, couldn’t you? I know you like it here, but you can fuck off the hotel and the cafè.” Jim clasped his hand. “For me?”

Freddie rolled his eyes and then smiled. “Fine.” He relented. “On the condition you help me pay the rent this month.”

“Oh, obviously.” Jim grinned, so happy, so pleased. “So, come home with me?”

“Okay, darling.” Freddie grinned, letting himself be defeated. “You have to let me sleep when we get home, though.”

“Of course. I’ll call Liza and get her to light the fire in my room so it’ll be warm like you like it.” He said immediately.

“You’ll do no such thing!” Freddie laughed. “It’s quarter past four in the morning, let the poor woman rest. You can lay me out some nice pajamas when we get back, and I suppose you’ll just have to cuddle me to keep me warm.”

Jim tugged him close and tight to his chest; just to have him so close, so unashamedly, without doubts and without fears, felt liberating. He felt so perfect there in his arms, soft and beautiful, as though he was allowed to be vulnerable again, happy again, playful again, now he wasn’t playing a losing battle. Finally, he murmured, “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I BET THIS WASN'T WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING


	13. Fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good words, good thoughts, good deeds.

“Jim!” Freddie screeched, running around the kitchen counter to get away from him and laughing. His shirt billowed behind him, loose around him, one of Jim’s that he’d stolen from the bedroom floor when he woken that afternoon; now, it was covered in flour.

“You look like you’ve got snow in your hair.” Jim laughed. “I only meant to get it on your ass, baby, I promise.”

“I’ve got to wear these to work!” Freddie laughed and shook his hair back defiantly. “If you get flour on my jeans, I will kill you without hesitation.”

“It’s just another excuse to get you in my clothes.” Jim grinned and walked towards him, laughing when Freddie ran away again. “Come here!”

“Look at your hands!” Freddie grinned, running to the other side of the kitchen. “I’ll be washing that out of them for weeks.”

Jim looked down at his hands, covered in flour, and then blew on his palms. The flour-covered Freddie, who screeched, though he was laughing so hard that it sounded a little disjointed. “What a shame!” Jim wrapped his arms around his lover from behind as he tried to run past him; he swung him around playfully and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “I suppose you’ll be wearing my jeans to work tonight.”

“In what world are they going to fit?” Freddie asked with a giggle, relaxing in the warmth of his lover’s arms, a pretty little contented sigh escaping his lips.

“The ones you’re wearing right now were mine, baby, remember?” Jim kissed the warm patch of skin again and smiled.

Freddie rolled his eyes playfully and finally sat up on the kitchen counter to watch him. “I thought you couldn’t cook?”

“I can’t cook for shit, but I can make a mean loaf of bread.” He grinned, rolling up his sleeves to go back to kneading the dough. “Cupcakes and cookies, too.”

“I’ll get so fat.” Freddie laughed and crossed his legs. “What’s in the oven right now?”

Jim had set to baking while Freddie was asleep, figuring he’d want a sweet treat or six before he went to work that day. “Chocolate chip biscuits and a pesto twist.”

Freddie’s stomach rumbled loudly and he laughed, cheeks flushing. “I’m going to eat all of it in three mouthfuls.”

“It’s worth it. They’re best when they’re warm.” Jim grinned, glancing at Freddie; his confident smile only widened when he saw that Freddie’s eyes were fixed on the flex of muscles in his arm. “What time do you start work today?” He asked curiously.

“What day is it?” Freddie replied, rubbing his eye as he thought.

“Thursday, darling.” Jim chuckled.

“Seven. Short shift, I’m doing bar open until eleven. I make more money doing the lates but I don’t think I’ve physically got the stamina to do them every time.” He smiled. “When’s it ready?”

“Soon, baby, soon. Dad’ll be back when you’ve finished, so it’s up to you if you want to come here or go home.” Jim smiled back at him. “I haven’t quite told him about everything yet.”

“How much does he know?” He asked curiously, picking up the bag of chocolate chips from the side and pouring himself a handful. 

“I’m not getting married to Tom. I told him that he cheated on me, suddenly he wasn’t too keen on the idea.” He chuckled and moved over to the oven, pulling out the two trays and resting them on the stove. “There you go, sweet. Tuck in.”

Freddie poured all the chocolate chips into his mouth and then jumped off the counter, pressing a hasty kiss to Jim’s cheek before he tore a wedge off the bread with his fingers. “Oh, darling, this looks divine!”

“So long as you never tire of bread and sugar, we’re a pretty good match in our cooking skills.” He chuckled and picked up a cookie, smiling, satisfied with the snap as he bit into it. 

“What, because I can cook meals and you can bake from scratch?” Freddie smiled, his mouth full of bread. “I want you to make this for me for every day of the rest of my adult life.”

Jim laughed and wrapped his arms back around him, unable and unwilling to let go of him just yet; they’d slept tangled in one another, and he’d pushed paracetamol between tired lips when Freddie had finally awoken for the day. “Tea and toast for the rest of your life.”

“Oh, it’s the simple pleasures.” Freddie looked up at him and gently wiped his own lip free of pesto before he leaned up for a soft kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jim smiled. “I still can’t believe I really get to say that.”

“I can’t believe you told your bigoted fiancé that you loved me at three o’clock in the morning in a dodgy bar, darling, but here we are.” Freddie laughed and dropped another kiss on his lips. “I wasn’t expecting you to.”

  
  
“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, brushing a curl from his face. “You know I love you.”

“I mean, it was a little confrontational, wasn’t it? I asked you to tell me that you loved me with no warning and no warm-up, and I just had to hope that you would really do it.” Freddie smiled. “And you did.”

“Anything, baby.” He whispered, and on his lips, it sounded like a promise, a prayer. “Anything for you.”

* * *

February was a dreary month; the rain drizzled in the sky, soaking through his jacket, his shirt, his skin, until he swore that his bones were wet. The sun had sulked behind the horizon a long while ago without having ever really dawned, without having warmed the dew from grass that had later disappeared in the hazy rain: he walked from streetlamp to streetlamp, holding his breath in the darkness and breathing in the light, trying his best to keep to his own, to not look too far up, and to not look too far down.

There were plenty of gentlemen in that borough of London, financial directors and lawyers, accountants, doctors, businessmen; they all wore those same coats, smart, structured, and all held umbrellas clasped in their hands. On occasion, they would stumble into his sleazy bar, accidental, fooled by its pretence of glamour and respectability, and they would be repelled by the leering, the performance, or else would be sucked in by the strong aphrodisiac of the promise of something different.

The man that trod the path in front of him, feet protected by Hunter wellingtons, holding a briefcase in a strong hand: he was a gentleman.

Freddie’s eyes darted to the floor when something fell to the floor from his pocket, and he stooped to inspect it in the darkness, his heart racing when he saw what it was-

A wallet.

Guilty fingers popped the clasp and opened it, eyes widening as he thumbed fifty, a hundred, two, three, four-

The devil on his shoulder said to snatch it, to hoard it, to spend it on a ring that would free him from the dreariness of his existence, something that could give him something special. There had to be more than enough for the ring he had his eye on, the simple one, just over a thousand pounds; he could leave his job behind, buy it, spend the rest on a demo-

But, he reminded himself, he knew what it was like to have nothing. He knew the fear of empty cupboards and empty stomachs; he knew the feeling of pawning anything he’d ever loved to own, the incessant fear of not being able to pay for the bare minimum.

And as much of a gentleman as the man may have been, there was nothing to say that it wouldn’t be everything he owned.

He closed the clasp and stood up quickly. “Sir!” He called, feet splashing in puddles as he ran over to the stranger, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Sir, you dropped this.”

The man took the wallet wordlessly, opening it and checking through it quickly. When he saw it was untouched, he began to smile at Freddie. “Thank you.” He said earnestly. “Most people would have had a wedge out of that.”

Freddie shook his head immediately. “It wouldn’t have been fair.” He said softly.

The stranger thought the boy looked so sweet, with water dripping from his nose and the shyest smile on his face. “What would you like?” He asked abruptly.

“Me?” Freddie squeaked. “I- oh, nothing, sir. I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that.” He opened the wallet again. “If I gave you money, what would you do with it?”

“You don’t have to-” Freddie started, but the gentle, mocking eyebrow made him stutter over his words. “I- well, I- I suppose I’d buy a ring.” He bit his lip. “For my boyfriend.”

The stranger smiled immediately. “There’s something so lovely about young love.” He said earnestly. “How much is the ring?”

“Honestly, sir-” Freddie started again.

“Sometimes we should all do nice things for people.” He interrupted. “When I was a boy, a stranger gave me a lesson that changed my life when he paid my rent for the one month that I couldn’t. He said that one day, I should do the same for someone else. You should too.” He smiled. “So, how much is the ring?”

He bit his lip to hide how excited his smile was. “A thousand pounds, sir.”

“A thousand pounds.” He hummed, flicking through the fifties in his pocket. Twenty notes, fresh and crisp, were plucked out; Freddie could only stare as they were pressed into his hand. “May I ask the name of your sweetheart?”

Freddie looked up at him and smiled. “Jim, sir.” He replied softly. “Jim Hutton.”

The man’s eyes widened and he smiled. “I’m very good friends with his father.” He nodded. “Well, you sack off any plans you had tonight, and you get that ring, okay?”

Freddie’s grin was earnest and unashamed. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.” He chuckled. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

Freddie’s heart was hammering in his chest, having run the whole way to Hatton Garden before the jewellers could close for the night; he stood in the doorway, dripping wet, still clutching the notes in his hand, his smile so wide. “I’d like to buy a ring.” He said quickly.

“A ring?” The woman behind the counter smiled. “Do you know which one you’d like, darling?”

“Yes.” He smiled, running a hand through his wet hair before he approached her. “The white gold one with the solitaire diamond.”

“The illusion ring?” She asked curiously, unlocking the cabinet. 

“Yes, yes, that one.” He grinned back at her. 

“Who’s the lucky sweetheart?” She asked with a chuckle.

“My boyfriend.” Freddie watched as she brought it out and handed it over to him. “God, it’s beautiful.”

“Oh, isn’t it just? It’s probably my favourite we have.” She smiled. “It’s £1,024.”

“Okay.” He smiled, laying out the thousand on the counter and then rifling in his pocket for his wallet, finding a crumpled twenty from the night before and the four pounds in odd change. “Sorry.” He laughed.

“No problem. You look like you’ve been saving hard.” She chuckled. “Would you like a ring box?”

“Oh, I-” Freddie glanced at his wallet and bit his lip. “I just brought the money for the ring, I’m sorry.”

“I’ll throw it in for free.” She winked at him. “What colour would you like?”

“Do you have a navy?” He asked hopefully.

“Sure we do.” She turned around to select it from the cabinet and Freddie took the chance to pick up the ring again, surveying and admiring its beauty. It wasn’t garish in the way that Tom’s had been, but simple and elegant, seeming to fit his very personality. “Do you want me to pop it in?” She smiled.

“Please.” He bit his lip as he handed it over. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“When are you proposing?” She asked.

“Like- right now.” He laughed, tossing his hair back from his face as he watched the box snap shut. “I don’t know, I just- God, I really want to do it straight away.” 

“Such enthusiasm is important, darling. That’s how you know you’ll be together forever.” She handed over the box and Freddie closed his palm around it, barely breathing. “Good luck.”

* * *

He’d been squashed tight on the tube, his hand around the box to protect it from pickpockets; he was paranoid that a corner would dent, or else that the ring itself would be harmed. He’d gotten out at Victoria and had run the whole way to Jim’s, punching the key in at the door just so he could get to him quicker - the rain lashed it down hard, but Freddie barely noticed.

The knock was loud in the quiet house; Jim looked up from the newspaper quickly. “Are you expecting someone?” He asked his father.

“No.” He replied immediately. “But it must be someone they know if they know the gate code.”

“I’ll go and look.” He folded the paper and stood up, walking out into the hallway and opening the old, heavy door. At the sight of Freddie, breathless and excited, he smiled. “What the hell are you doing here?” He laughed. 

Freddie surged up and kissed him, not even caring that his muddy shoes were damaging the white carpet in the hallway; he clung to Jim’s cheeks for a second and then broke away. He clumsily fell onto one knee, seizing the box in his pocket, and then opened it for him to see. “Marry me?”

Jim’s eyes widened. “Oh my God-” He whispered. “Freddie, how..?”

“Marry me?” He asked again, oh-so-hopeful.

“Christ, of course I’ll marry you.” Jim laughed, pulling him up so that he could kiss him.

Freddie squealed and squeezed his arms around Jim’s neck. “I did it!”

“You did!” He laughed, holding him close; he could feel the weight lifting from both their shoulders as they stood there, clasped tightly together. “Sorcery or magic?”

“Good will.” He replied, voice muffled in his shoulder.

“Show me the ring, then.” Jim chuckled as Freddie finally pulled away and held up the ring for him to see.

Freddie grinned at the look of shock on his face and took it carefully out of the box. “I got you a diamond.” He murmured.

“Baby, it’s beautiful.” He whispered as Freddie carefully put it on his finger, a finger that had been taken up by one man for far too long. “Oh, Freddie-”

“You’re my fiancé now.” Freddie leaned up and kissed him again, softer and yet still excited. “And I’m going to show you how good it can be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ALWAYS SAID THIS WOULD BE A FAIRYTALE


	14. Poison Sweet Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why try and stop yourself from touching when it's all yours?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates recently! I've had horrible writer's block - hopefully we should be through it by now!
> 
> Most of this is smut, so be forewarned!

Leather trousers were clasped tightly around his waist, shirt only half-buttoned, lazy and happy; the marks on his collarbones had been drawn in darker with silken-smooth lipstick, complimenting the satin pout of his lips. The new kimono that draped over his shoulders was expensive, he’d been assured, thousands- it clung effortlessly to the curves of his body in a way only such luxury could. 

“No one is allowed to touch me.” He announced as he flounced into the studio, a Treasurer between his lips, not able to hide his smirk. “I am more expensive than any of you bitches could ever afford.”

John arched an eyebrow and lay back on the sofa, watching him. “You’ve had a change of heart.”

“I’ve written a fucking masterpiece, darling, and I’m engaged.” He said flippantly. “It’s wondrous how quickly it all comes back to you when you don’t have to whore yourself out for the rent.”

“Whoring?” Roger asked.

“Spiritual, of course. You saw me.” He grinned and walked over to the piano. “Now, listen to this.”

_Elegant fingers, long and lithe, crossed over one another with gorgeous precision; heavy eyelashes fluttered closed with the beauty of the music as it surrounded him, swallowed him whole. He could’ve played it through once, though it was more likely four or five times before hesitant drumsticks tapped against jeans, before the soft sounds of guitar strings, unplugged, joined him._

“I believe, darling, that you’ll just have to go with me for a while.” He stopped in the middle of the song for the sixth, seventh, eighth time, smiling as though dazed. “Humour me, and I’ll make you rich.”

* * *

Freddie was born for luxury, and Jim could see it in the way it painted a smile on his face that could’ve been carved into his very skin. The house had once been quiet when he was home alone, when he’d padded around in soft socks and lounged in front of the television, when he’d eaten whatever was in the fridge and fallen asleep amongst sofa cushions-

He got the impression it would never be quiet again.

Freddie was born to be loud, to create, to keep going in a midnight haze of coffee and vodka; sometimes it was quieter, sometimes more focused, and yet sometimes he would stand up from the piano with a clatter and wander around endless corridors, singing loud enough to shatter glass window panes. He could only watch as seemingly infinite albums flowed from his fingers, hasty lyrics written in one tattered notebook, sheet music diligently penned in another-

Without the weight of the world on his shoulders, keeping his lid on, he overflowed with passion, creativity, and love.

Jim lay back on the bed, watching him as he leant over the keys again, trying four or five different divergences on his refrain; he caught his lower lip between his teeth as he played, letting his head loll forward. He’d been calm until Jim had gotten home from work, but his lover’s presence seemed to light a fire in him that took a long while to burn out-

Or maybe it was the thrill of being had against the door in a Georgian mansion, the thrill of hands holding him up as he gave himself over to ecstasy where all the wrong eyes could see- maybe it was escaping the mundane that had left him so energetic.

“Baby-” Jim smiled as their eyes met, and held out a hand for him. “I haven’t seen enough of you yet today.”

“I would’ve thought you’d had all the taste you needed, darling.” Freddie replied, smirking as he stood just out of reach. “Not satisfied?”

“Oh, perfectly.” He countered. “But you’ve barely allowed me to talk to you today.”

He grinned and rested his hand on his hip. “I’m afraid that genius has no manners, my darling.”

He squealed as Jim surged up and grabbed onto the collar of the shirt he wore open, pulling him into a kiss; he laughed at the urgency behind it and then gave himself over happily, willingly, tangling his fingers in Jim’s hair. “I just don’t seem to be able to keep my hands off of you.” Jim murmured against his lips.

“I thought it was forbidden fruit that was all the sweeter?” He teased, letting himself fall onto the bed beside his lover and immediately crawling over him to sit on his hips. He let himself rock back and forth, teasing, and grinned at the flush that crept over Jim’s cheeks and chest. “You want me?”

“I want to give you something.” He replied, a little breathless as Freddie’s fingers worked quickly on the button of his trousers.

“Something else?” He replied delightedly, looking up from under his hair and grinning. “After the clothes and the cigarettes, darling?”

He reached into his bedside drawer and fumbled around for a second before he produced a set of keys. Freddie’s cheeks flushed, his eyes brightening, and he parted his lips to speak, but Jim interrupted him. “It’s not for you.” He laughed. “We’ve still got to go house-hunting. But, even though you seem to have forgotten, I haven’t forgotten that you have a family living in some shitty, cold, small flat in Kensington. So you give them these keys, and you tell them to move to Warwick Road.”

Freddie gasped and threw his arms around Jim’s neck. “Oh, darling, you’re so thoughtful!” He sang, kissing him excitedly. “You’re the loveliest man I could’ve ever dreamed of!”

Jim laughed and kissed him back, brushing his hair back from his face. “They don’t have to pay rent on it, and we’ll cover the bills for the first few months while they get back on their feet.”

“Darling-” Freddie sighed happily. “I love you so.”

“I love you too.” Jim pressed another kiss to his lips. One smooth, broad hand swept over his chest, pushing back the hem of his shirt, and he kissed at his jawline as he slipped it down over his shoulders. “Do you want to?” He whispered.

“Stupid fucking question, darling.” Freddie smirked, smoothing his hands over Jim’s bare chest - he’d never bothered putting it back on after he’d lost it the first time - and then gripping onto his shoulders as he rocked his hips down again.

Jim’s moan answered his own and he thrust up against him, the movements messy as their lips met again; Freddie gasped against his lips as he rocked their cocks together, digging his nails into his shoulders. “How do you want it?” Jim asked softly.

“God, need you.” Freddie tilted his head back, his whole body shuddering as Jim’s hand bumped against him as he shoved his jeans down. “Tease.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be teased.” Jim smirked and kissed at the column of his throat, grabbing onto Freddie’s hips to pull him down harder; he fell in love with the crease between his eyebrows as his brow furrowed and his mouth fell open. “You gonna ride me, baby?”

“Jim-” Freddie replied, his voice barely a thread of sound as a hand disappeared into his briefs, stroking him just lightly. 

“Hm?” He teased, darkening a bruise that already stained his skin. “You want that?”

“Fuck-” Freddie gasped. “Yes, Jim, I- ah!” He moaned as he closed his fist around the head of his cock.

“That’s not a nice way to ask for what you want.” He whispered in his ear as Freddie dropped his head forward.

“Please-” He moaned, breath hot over Jim’s skin. “Please, please, let me-”

Jim shoved his boxers down far enough to free his cock and Freddie moaned just at the sight of it, flushed and hard and heavy as he closed a soft hand around it. “Fuck-” Jim swore, struggling to keep his eyes open as he felt for the bottle of lube. “Do you need..?”

“I’d say I’m pretty fucking prepared, darling.” Freddie laughed breathlessly, wriggling out of his briefs and throwing them on the floor beside them. He hastily slicked three fingers and pushed them inside, as though to prove his point, and moaned lewdly as he used them to stroke at his sweet spot.

“Christ-” Jim moaned as he watched him, slicking his cock as he watched the way Freddie’s chest heaved as he thrust his fingers in clumsily. “Come on, baby, come here.”

He wiped his fingers off on the bedclothes and crawled back into his lap, biting his lip as he rested a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Sure?” Freddie whispered.

He thought it endearing that no matter how many times they made love, Freddie always took the time to check that his lover was still happy. “Sure.” He promised, kissing him softly once more; his head fell back as Freddie steadied his cock and slowly sunk back onto him. 

“Oh, fuck-” Freddie gasped, cock straining with the pleasure of feeling himself full to bursting; he closed his eyes and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, enjoying the visceral delight of the stretch, forcing his body to submit to it once again.

Jim’s hands fell to his hips, holding him still for a moment; he felt as though he was drowning in the feeling of Freddie, the irresistible thrill that came with knowing he was the man who had won, the cat with the cream. “You feel so good.” He murmured hoarsely, thrusting his hips up.

Freddie melted at the rough drag over his prostate and moaned up at the ceiling. “Oh, darling-” He gasped, lifting himself and dropping himself down hard. “Oh, I love you so-”

“I love you, baby, I love you-” Jim repeated, as though his voice were the smoothest metronome; he bit his lip hard as he helped Freddie into a rhythm. “God, Freddie, fuck-”

His smirk was lazy, though his body worked hard to guide them through ecstasy; Jim pinched his nipple, making Freddie moan louder and arch his chest up into the rough touch. “More..” He whispered. “More, I need-”

Jim snapped his hips up to match Freddie’s pace, leaning forward to lick at Freddie’s nipple; he cried out, falling out of their rhythm as he thrust his cock up against Jim’s stomach. “Darling-” He gasped, shaking his hair out of face; Jim felt how he trembled as he bit down. “Oh, fuck!”

Jim grabbed onto his hips and encouraged his hips to thrust forward, feeling the trails of pre-cum that Freddie was leaking over his skin. “That feel good?” He teased, lips pressed to the shell of his ear.

“Jim…” Freddie bit his lip as he thrust harder, grinding up against him and then fucking himself back down onto his cock. “Jim, darling, please, I need-”

He thrust up hard against his prostate and was rewarded with his body tightening like a vice: he moaned raggedly and pushed Freddie down onto the bed, hauling him closer and pushing in again. “I can’t resist you.” He murmured against his neck.

“I-” Freddie broke off as Jim slammed into his prostate again, letting out an obscene whine and thrusting his hips up again; he was disappointed that the angle left him with nothing to rub up against. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

Jim watched his hands fall from his shoulders, one painted fingernail running over his nipple instead and the other hand inching closer to his cock. He grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them over his head, watching the crazed, debauched light in Freddie’s eyes light up. “Don’t move them.” He murmured.

“Jim, I can’t come like that-” He laughed, a little delusional with the pleasure.

“Sure you can, sweetheart.” He grabbed Freddie’s hips and pulled them into his thrusts, hitting as hard as he could; any complaints on his lips were dissolved amongst lewd whines and whimpers. 

He felt like he was dying, racing to get them both off as he thrust as hard as he could, as fast as could, only watching as Freddie’s cock pulsed and leaked each time he got the angle right. “You’re fucking incredible.” He gasped, throwing one of Freddie’s legs over his shoulder to thrust harder.

Freddie was barely vocal, instead just letting out a pornographic mix of moans of approvals, and whines- he knew he had to be close, so close, his orgasm within touching distance. “I want you to come for me, baby.” He murmured, leaning over him and kissing him again. “I want you to come all over yourself, okay?”

“I can’t-” He tried once more, but Jim just grinned against his lips and kissed him again. 

“You can.” He whispered. “Let go for me, baby, let it all go.”

Heavy eyes opened to look at him as his thrusts turned erratic, trying so hard to stave off his own orgasm, rushing to get Freddie there first. Freddie moaned as he let his eyes rake Jim’s body, pushing into his thrusts to try and get there, so desperate, so wanton-

He caught sight of where Jim was pounding into him, and he could only screw his eyes shut and moan as he came all over his stomach.

Jim fumbled to get a hand around his cock, working him through it, though his hand stilled as he came hard inside him, crying out his name- when his eyes came back open, Freddie was fucking into his palm, riding out the aftershocks.

He lay heavily beside him and pulled him into a kiss, though he could barely catch his breath; he wound both arms around his body and kept him as close as he could. “That was incredible, baby, well done.” He murmured, smile sleepy and dazed.

Freddie laughed and rested his head on Jim’s collarbone, lazily tracing love hearts on his side. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

“I said it would be worth it.” Jim chuckled, pulling him into another short kiss.

Freddie hummed his agreement; he stood up a few minutes later, once his breath had evened out, once he’d had a lifetime’s worth of kisses pressed to his lips, and smiled when he saw Jim’s eyes still followed him. “I’m not sure what happened to your promise that you’d only come on my ass, darling, but I’ve got to take a shower now.” He grinned.

“Oh, shit-” Jim sat up, looking guilty.

“It’s fine, dear, honestly.” Freddie laughed and leaned down to kiss him once again. “But I’ve got a little clean-up operation now.”

“Can I help?” He offered, reaching for him. “I’ll shower with you.”

“You’re expressly banned from the bathroom for the next ten minutes.” Freddie snatched a wash bag out of the suitcase he’d lazily thrown on the floor of the bedroom and headed for the bathroom door. “I’d quite like to keep up with the pretence that I’m vaguely attractive, and I doubt you’d hold the same opinion once you’ve seen me with water up my ass.”

“You don’t have to do that on my account.” He promised.

“It’s on my own account, darling, how would you like to sleep with half a bottle of lube and come in your ass?” Freddie asked with a laugh. “You can change the sheets.”

“I’m not even sure I know how.” He admitted.

“Well, it’s an excellent time to learn.” Freddie winked as he disappeared behind the door, and then shouted, “I expect the silk sheets!”

* * *

“Are you sure about this?” Jim whispered again, grip deathly tight on Freddie’s hand. “You’re sure they’ll like me?”

“You’ve gotten them a house in Kensington, darling, I don’t suppose they’re even capable of not loving you.” Freddie smiled up at him, kissing his knuckles gently. “You’ve met my sister, haven’t you? They’re just like her.”

“I’m scared of your dad.” He admitted.

“My dad buys packets of Marlboro Reds when I’m having down days and continuously makes jokes about when I was sixteen and he found a dildo under my bed.” Freddie’s cheeks flushed but he shrugged regardless. “We’re not prim and proper in this house.”

He laughed and kissed Freddie’s temple. “Just boyfriends, right?”

“Right.” He smiled. “They might kick my ass if they knew we were engaged, to be fair.”

Freddie knocked on the door again, and when it finally swung open he beamed at them. “I thought you were going to leave me out here to freeze in the cold and the rain!” He laughed, leaning up to hug his mother. “Hi, Mama.”

“And we thought we might have to file a bloody missing person’s report on you sooner or later.” Freddie heard his father call from behind, and he laughed, warm and happy. “Oh, you’ve brought someone home!”

  
  
“Let us in, let us in!” Freddie laughed, dragging Jim into the house; he smiled as he was wrapped in the familiar smell of his childhood, clean cotton, waxed floors, something good cooking away on the stove. The house was warm, and the radiators nearly burned his fingers as he skimmed over the top of them, though a fire still burned in the hearth. 

It felt like a victory; it felt like turning a corner.

“So, who do we have here?” Bomi prompted again.

Freddie stood in the middle of the lounge, fingers clasped tightly in Jim’s, and smiled shyly up at him. “Mama, Papa, this is Jim.”

“Jim-” Jer’s eyes widened. “You gave us this place!”

“I- well-” He bit his lip, taken aback when she threw her arms around him and hugged him, though he hugged back all the same. “I knew about Freddie, obviously, but I didn’t want to leave any of you behind.”

“Even when he has practically moved into your house. At first, I thought you’d kidnapped him.” Bomi joked, walking over to him and shaking his hand. “Bomi Bulsara.”

“It’s lovely to meet you.” Jim replied earnestly and Freddie met eyes with Kash for a moment; she winked at him and sat on the sofa beside them.

“So, how long have you been friends with Freddie?” She asked loudly, perfect to the script.

Freddie grinned. “He’s my boyfriend.” He announced.

“I thought the day would never come.” Bomi walked into the kitchen and started the kettle. “There was me, thinking you’d refuse conventional relationships for the rest of your life.”

“I’ve been assured that he’s very hard to pin down.” Jim grinned as Freddie tugged him onto one of the sofas, laying happy and snuggled up to him, no shame in front of his family, though Jim’s cheeks turned pink.

“He never seems to quite find time to bring all these men home, darling.” Bomi grinned. “Who wants tea?”

“Jim likes English breakfast.” Freddie told him.

“That’s because he’s normal, darling, and normal people don’t want to drink bergamot.” He replied, setting out a teapot and a spare mug for Freddie. 

“Jim, tell us about yourself.” Jer implored.

He loved the chaos of the house around him, all the voices competing with one another, united by laughter, united by love. “I’m not sure there’s much to say.” He chuckled. “I’m twenty-one, I work in finance in the city, and I live with my father in Chelsea. He owns Standard Chartered.”

Bomi whistled. “Good credentials.”

“More luck than anything else on my part.” He admitted and smiled shyly at Freddie. “I met Freddie when he came to shovel the snow at our estate.”

“Oh, that was you!” Bomi smiled as he put the teapot down on the table. “Well, aren’t you cosy?” He teased Freddie.

He had his cheek pressed to the neck of Jim’s cardigan, and he wore an old jumper of Jim’s; he had his legs tucked up and was happily snuggled under Jim’s arm. “Very, thank you.” He replied with a smile, taking his cup when it was passed to him. 

“I admire you for putting up with him.” Kash murmured, pouring herself a mug. 

“I’m not that hard to live with!” Freddie laughed. “I mean, he’s almost used to the four o’clock piano these days.”

“I pity you trying to do a day’s work when he’s practically nocturnal.” Bomi chuckled. “You’re playing again?”

“We think we might have an album.” Freddie shrugged shyly, but his cheeks were warm with happiness. “We just need the recording time. I’m still working at that bar, so I should have the money soon, and the others are pitching in too. I’ve just gone down to three days a week now, instead of five or six.” He yawned into the back of his sleeve. “I have to be nocturnal.”

“He’s a little unlike anybody I’ve ever met before.” Jim chuckled. “I don’t mind the thrill.”

“It’s probably a good thing.” Kash commented, though she was smiling. “Why, were you bored before?”

“Kash!” Jer scolded.

“No, it’s true, I was.” He grinned down at Freddie. “But somehow it’s hard to be bored when you’ve got Freddie Mercury in your life.”


	15. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First chances, and second chances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love character development!

Midnight eyes were sunset-heavy, weighed down by the freedom to sleep whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, and for however long he wished; kisses weighed on love-parted lips, soon to be responsive. Eyelashes batted against cheeks rosy with warmth, happiness, and the permission to laze after endless months of insurmountable hopes and dreams - the languid smile he wore as he woke tasted like victory.

Gentle fingers cradled love-warm cheeks as tired eyes awoke, as soft hands outstretched and grabbed onto the rude health of belonging, wanting, being. One thumb traced dark lips, wine-red and yet clinging to the hint of previous gloss, staining, enhancing, enchanting, raspberry-sour and saccharine-sweet as they passed the taste of love back and forth. 

Freddie's smile widened as Jim’s arm wound close and warm around his waist and dragged him closer; the press of their bare skin was intoxicating as he let himself fall into the feeling of love, not having to chase or act or please. He’d spent his whole life with another man every night, constantly having to work so that he didn’t spend his nights alone- it felt so good to return to the same man, night after night, whether he’d been out working or writing songs, or whether he was in the mood to snuggle until the dawn broke. It felt that no matter what, Jim’s arms were always welcoming and warm and comforting, whether he crawled into bed at ten o’clock or five in the morning.

“My beautiful boy.” Jim murmured, stroking Freddie’s dark hair back from tan cheeks and pressing a kiss to each. Freddie cracked both eyes open to look up at his lover and smiled sleepily.

“I love you.” He whispered, voice hoarse with sleep. “This bed has no right to be so comfortable.”

“I love you too.” Jim laughed. “Do you like it soft or hard?” 

Freddie arched a suggestive eyebrow and laughed to himself. “I like it soft.” He whispered. “I like it soft and I like this stupid quilt you’ve got.”

“What’s wrong with my quilt?” He asked with a laugh. 

“It’s so crunchy.” He tugged it over his shoulder. “It’s so heavy. I feel like somebody is laying on me.”

“It’s snuggly.” Jim smiled and pulled Freddie closer until he was laying against his chest; he felt the way that he softened as his cheek pressed to his chest.

“Is this okay?” Freddie whispered, holding himself up a little so he didn’t press down too hard against him.

“You’ve never been cuddled before?” Jim joked. “Lay down, come on, snuggle with me.”

Freddie laughed and ducked his head down, snuggling close against his chest. “Most people say I’m too heavy for this.”

“Bullshit. I like how you feel.” He kissed the top of Freddie’s head. “I could get used to this.”

“Don’t say that too loudly, I’ll be stuck here for the rest of time. You’ll never get me off of you.” He threw his arm around Jim’s middle and settled happily against him. “What are you doing today?”

“I have the day off.” He brushed his fingers through Freddie’s hair idly. “And I believe you do, too.”

“Unless they suddenly decide I have to go into work later.” He yawned and closed his eyes again, feeling happy and settled as he lay against Jim. “Though Matt is giving me more time off, so I doubt he’ll call me in. I think I scared the shit out of him when I nearly fainted at work because I was so sleepy and so hungry.”

“I don’t like the idea that you were that hungry.” He murmured. “You haven’t been since, have you?”

“Have you seen my ass?” Freddie grinned. “You tell me if I’m still hungry.”

Jim laughed and ran a hand down his back; he loved the figure of his boyfriend, lithe and lean yet with a wicked curve to his thighs, well trained from years of making love to a microphone on stage. He squeezed his ass playfully, as though he couldn’t tell, and then kissed the top of his head. “I suppose not.”

“We’ve got a gig coming up soon. I want to find the most ridiculously tight trousers in the whole of Kensington Market.” He laughed softly, breath warm against his skin. “I hope you weren’t planning to keep me a secret, darling, because you’ll soon find that I don’t believe in being anything less than utterly outrageous.”

“I’ll come and watch you.” Jim cupped his cheek and pulled him into another kiss. 

“There’s something outrageously romantic about being kissed awake.” Freddie wound an arm around his neck and kissed him again. “Do you think you could still do this for me when I’m a hundred and eight?”

“I’m sure it could be arranged.” He murmured against his lips. “You know, we’ll have to get up soon.”

“Overrated.” Freddie replied immediately, leaning over him to pick up the cigarettes from the counter. He knelt up as he lit one, the silken sheets pooling around his ass and his hips, exposed all down his front; he winked when he caught Jim staring. “Want one?”

“Is that even a question?” He asked, taking one from the proffered pack. “You know, I didn’t smoke half as much before I met you.”

“If it’s any consolation, darling, neither did I.” He chuckled. “It makes me look mysterious, and I knew that was what you were getting off on.”

Jim touched his cigarette to the end of Freddie’s to light it and watched him with a smile. “I think I’ve gone from social smoker to addicted.”

“It’s just another way to kill yourself slowly.” Freddie shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure the coke’ll get me first.”

Jim spanked his thigh playfully, though he didn’t miss the immediate rush of interest and warmth through Freddie’s body. “Slut.”

“Oh, you wish.” He grinned and blew smoke at the ceiling. “Why have a housekeeper if she doesn’t bring you breakfast in bed?”

“Because there’s a line between home help and a servant, Freddie.” He chuckled. “Besides, we have to arrange it with her the night before if we want something like that. I can’t just ring a bell.”

“You should be able to.” Freddie stood up, tilting his head from side to side until his neck cracked, and then he smiled at Jim. “You choose what I wear.”

“Why don’t you wear that lacy robe I bought you?” He offered. “And the briefs, you know the ones I like.”

Freddie grinned and picked up the robe from the back of his sofa, draping it elegantly across his shoulders. “You do know I’m not a woman, darling?” He teased.

“You’ve got a waist like a woman’s. I just want to show off all your best bits.” He winked, sitting up so that his shoulders were pressed to the headboard; with a Treasurer between his lips, silk sheets around his waist, and a beautiful man walking around his room, he momentarily considered that his life couldn’t be better. “You look beautiful in that.”

“I think they should make more clothes in lace for men.” He chose a fresh pair of briefs and angled them artfully over the cut of his hips; Jim watched as he twisted and turned in the mirror, enthralled by his reflection. “I look like a fairy.”

“You look like an angel.” He grinned. “You know, you’re so fun to buy for. I just tell the shop girls that I’m shopping for my petite girlfriend and they get it spot on every time. I don’t think I could buy you something you wouldn’t wear.”

“Just because I’m five four.” He glowered playfully at Jim, sitting at the end of the bed to roll a pair of socks over his bare feet. “I’ll try on anything once, darling.”

“That’s what I love about you.” He smiled, warm and open, and dropped the filter of his cigarette in the ashtray beside the bed before he stood up. He took Freddie in his arms for a moment, just to feel the warmth of his body beside him, and then pressed a kiss to his lips before he grabbed a silk pajama top that Freddie had stolen the night before. “Would it be unconventional if I bought you a ring?” He asked.

Freddie’s eyebrow shot up, a contrast to the demure way that he sat on the end of the unmade bed. “Why would you want to do that?” He chuckled.

“I’m not sure. It just feels wrong, I suppose, that I have one and you don’t.” He walked past him to the set of drawers at the side of the room and glared playfully at Freddie when he swatted his ass as he walked by. “And I’ve never gotten to buy one for somebody before, I’ve always been bought them.”

“Your life is so hard.” Freddie sighed dramatically, laying back on the bed and taking another drag on his cigarette. “I mean, it wouldn’t be conventional, but I suppose you’ve worked out by now that I don’t always do conventional.”

Jim dressed himself in pajama pants and then looked over at Freddie, taking a moment to admire his beauty as he lay out on the bed, draped in lace that contrasted with his old, tattered trainer socks: he couldn’t imagine a single person in the world fitting in more than he did. “You know, you really aren’t the same person I met back in December.”

“Good.” Freddie closed his eyes lazily as he blew smoke at the ceiling. “I enjoy life far more now, darling, and everybody tells me that I’m far more fun to have around.”

Freddie screeched as the bed fell from behind him, as he was swept up, weightless, supported just by Jim’s arms; he had never had a man pick him up so confidently before, not a waver in his body that suggested he felt the strain of another man on his arms. He laughed and wound his arms around Jim’s neck, love-drunk, expecting him to place him down on soft cashmere carpets; pale pink spots of surprise grew on his cheeks as he carried him out of the bedroom. “You’re the most self-confident person I’ve ever met.” Jim chuckled. “And I love you for it.”

“Why be so down on yourself all the time? I think you’ll find that there’s a lot to love about me.” He grinned, letting himself relax once he was sure that Jim wouldn’t drop him. “How can you even do this?”

“Innate skills.” He replied with a smirk. “Just been waiting for the right man to sweep off his feet.”

“Oh, you-” Freddie laughed, and then froze.

Jim’s father sat at the dining table, three papers laid out before him, a French press boasting black coffee set down beside his cup; he had paused from his reading in order to arch an eyebrow at them both.

“I thought you were in France-” Jim said immediately.

“And I wasn’t aware that you were keeping your puppy around.” He replied, looking Freddie up and down as Jim lowered him gracelessly to the floor. “Seems you’ve bought him a new collar.”

Freddie’s cheeks coloured with embarrassment and he tossed his hair from his face defiantly. “I thought I’d have a go at your son.” He said, voice low and deadly.

“Excuse me?” He laughed, folding a paper. “I’d watch your manners around here.”

“Honesty is the only virtue.” Freddie sat on his dining table, not caring who could see what, and studiously ignored Jim’s look, the one that told him he was being an idiot. “I could’ve had his fiancé, you know, but I decided not to. I decided to go with the man that wanted a bit of rough on the side.”

“Freddie, that’s enough-” Jim spluttered.

“It’s enough?” He glared at Jim, though this time, the venom wasn’t playful. “Oh, so you’re happy to defend me from every man this side of Whitechapel that calls me a slut, but you won’t admit to your own father that you thought a whore was a better match for you than a City businessman?”

Jim’s cheeks coloured scarlet. “I didn’t have to-”

“Oh, here we go.” Freddie tied the sash of his robe tight around him and stood up, staring at Jim defiantly. “Go on, rich boy, tell me that it’s a fucking honour that you picked me.” He rolled his eyes and stormed out of the room, running back upstairs into Jim’s room.

Jim stared at his father for a moment. “He’s not usually…” He trailed off. “Well, I mean, he’s fun.”

“Fun doesn’t pay the bills.” He replied curtly, going back to his paper. “I told you, stop throwing him scraps.”

“Can’t you even try and be nice?” He asked, frustrated. “I get it, he’s not normal, but Christ! Why do I have to go for someone who’s normal?”

“Because this is about our fucking reputation, and I won’t have it dragged through the mud by some whore who-”

“He’s not a fucking whore!” He burst out. “He’s not, he’s less of a fucking whore than Tom was. He’s talented, and he’s fun, and he’s- he’s a little more like I’d like to be.”

His father arched an eyebrow. “And how’s that going to support you?”

“He’s a singer.” He replied, pushing on through his father’s disgruntled grunt. “And he’s had two top ten albums, and you should see the size of the crowds at his shows. I’m not talking high school band.”

He pushed himself back from the table and finally made eye contact with Jim. “If you can train your puppy to be civil, we can have breakfast together.” He offered eventually. “But if he dares speak to me like that again, then we won’t be having him back between these walls.”

“Fine.” Jim combed a hand through his hair. “Fine, fine. But please don’t wind him up, Christ.” He murmured. “You can’t blame him for treating you like shit if you call him the fucking puppy.”

“Begging for-”

“I don’t care what the justification is!” He said exasperatedly. “His name is Freddie, and that’s what you fucking refer to him by.”

He held his hands up in mock-surrender. “Freddie.” He repeated. “Go and get him, then.”

Freddie didn’t cry; Freddie never fucking cried, not when he lost a job, not when a bill fell through the door he couldn’t pay, not when the pain got so bad that he wished he’d just pass out. He didn’t cry over boys, and he didn’t cry over cheap fucks, and he didn’t cry over sleazy men taunting him into whoring himself out for the evening- he didn’t cry over anything.

He sniffled a little as he shoved bare legs into the holes of his jeans, the briefs and the stupid robe discarded in the bin where they belonged- he furiously rubbed his face before he pulled on his t-shirt, cursing the whole fucking house and its every inhabitant-

“Freddie?” Jim knocked on the door gently, and Freddie bit his lip fiercely.

“Fuck off!” He replied, shoving the few pieces of clothing that were worth keeping into his bag.

Jim opened the door regardless. “Baby-” He started.

“I-” Freddie spat back at him, interrupting him. “Am not your fucking baby.”

“Freddie, sweetheart, please-” He softened his voice and came over to him, resting a hand on his back.

“Please what?” He looked at Jim, and the hatred in his eyes stung like a wound. “Please sit down while rich people call you a fucking beggar? Please shut up while the big boys deal with the real world and the terrible economic effect you’ll have on their fucking business?” He shook his shoulder violently. “Get your fucking hands off of me.”

“He didn’t mean it-”

“Does he think I like it?” He asked, voice nearly hysterical. “Does he think I wake up in the morning really hoping it’s another day I get to starve? Does he think I work eighteen hour days for the fucking fun of it? Does he think that I shouldn’t turn down some fucking hospitality in the name of politeness, when I haven’t eaten in days and most of your fucking food will go bad anyway because you’re fucking rich and so you can just waste it as if it doesn’t mean anything? Does he-”

“Listen, listen, just- Freddie, please, listen to me.” He interrupted, resting his hands on his shoulders again. “He’s a dick, Freddie, and he shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“I guess there’s no questions about whether I’ll ever be accepted in this house.” He walked to the other side of the room and ran his hands through his hair, gripping so hard that Jim could see the strands he tore out. 

“Honestly, baby, just come downstairs and we can start again.” He promised. 

“Why should I?” He turned to Jim. “Why should I stay somewhere where I’m not wanted. Fuck, it’s always fucking like this!”

Jim realised a second before he broke that tears were coming; he stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. Freddie hit at his chest weakly, but he made soft, soothing sounds in his ears until he finally stopped fighting, and let himself be overpowered. “This always happens.” His voice was softer and tearful. “I’m soft, and I get fucking stood on, and I’m tough, and then people treat me like shit!” He hiccuped. “No one can ever take me home because no fucking home wants me.”

“That’s not true.” Jim whispered, stroking his fingers through his hair. “I want you here, baby. And if I love you, then he’ll have to learn to love you too.”

“Why does he have to learn?” He whimpered. “Why can’t people just love me?”

“Oh, sweetheart, they do! I did, didn’t I?” He wiped Freddie’s eyes gently; he hadn’t expected him to have a side so soft and so vulnerable, so full of insecurities when he was so confident. “The truth is, sweetheart, that you’re scary, and so people get a little defensive. But it’s just because you’re so beautiful and vibrant and confident and people don’t know how to deal with that.”

Freddie sniffed and wiped his face, feeling embarrassed for making a scene. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“You don’t need to be. He shouldn’t have those things to you, they were unfair prejudices.” He murmured. “I’d really like you to meet properly, darling.”

“I don’t think I want to.” He whispered.

“How about we make a deal?” He offered. “He says one thing you don’t like, and we’ll both leave. I just think he needs a little time to warm up to you.”

Freddie sighed and twisted his fingers together agitatedly, trying to psych himself back up; eventually, he nodded. “Fine.” He murmured. “But I reserve the right to call him a cunt if he acts like one.”

“Deal.” Jim kissed his forehead. 

Freddie landed heavily at the dining table and sat quietly, looking at his hands. “I’m not sorry.” He said immediately, his last act of defiance.

“No, but I am.” Jim’s father leaned over the table to shake his hand, but Freddie just eyed his hand warily. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t do a very good job.” Freddie muttered, looking over at Jim. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” He said again. “I was just surprised to see you here.”

“Jim was unhappy, and we found out that we made each other happy. And, you know, it is convenient that he can throw money at things that matter to me, I won’t pretend, I won’t lie to you. But he’s a hell of a lot happier than he was before.” He sighed. “I know it’s not prim and proper, and I- you know, I wouldn’t have done half the shit if I’d known you were here, I do have some sense of decency.”

“Hey-” His father said gently. “Don’t justify yourself to me. Why don’t we start at the beginning?”

“The beginning?” Freddie repeated. “I- well, I’m Freddie Mercury, I’m twenty, and I’m a singer.”

* * *

_ His stomach hurt from laughing at Freddie’s stories of the craziest Chelsea debauchery, men young and old with terrible pick up lines or chivalric gestures turned sleazy; he even found himself laughing at stories of sneaking out of windows with his buttons half-undone and one shoe clutched in his hand. _


	16. Milestone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make the plunge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's something softer for you!

“This is fucking crazy.” Freddie whispered, his eyes wide; his fingers were clasped in Jim’s, his cheeks were rosy, and his eyes were so beautiful, so bright, and so happy. “Jim, this is…”

He trailed off as Jim turned to him, catching the beautiful, aghast look on his face and the splash of the four o’clock sunshine on the bridge of his nose. The windows opposite them glanced over the lazy skyline of Kensington, half asleep on that Saturday evening, and the bare room echoed as they walked slowly, soundly, happily.

“Could you see yourself here?” Jim asked softly, stroking his thumb over the back of Freddie’s hand. 

“I adore it.” He whispered, resting his hand on the smooth marble of the kitchen counter. “Oh, Jim, it’s perfect.”

“You’ve said that about the last four places we’ve been to.” Jim chuckled.

“Because it’s true!” His eyes were soft and happy as he looked back at Jim, finally tearing his glance away from the room around them. “There isn’t a place we’ve been to that I haven’t loved.”

He wound his arm around Freddie’s waist and squeezed lightly. “But which one is your favourite?” He prompted.

“I don’t think it’s possible to have a favourite.” He whispered, letting his head fall back against Jim’s shoulder. “Which of these can we afford?”

“Any of them, baby. Any that you like.” He kissed the side of his head. “You’ve already let me narrow it down to this, so now you get to choose.”

“God, this is fucking crazy.” He said again. “I feel like everything’s moving so fast, and I- God, I was never expecting it to be like this.”

Jim frowned a little and cupped his cheek to tilt his head up. “Is everything okay?” He asked gently.

“I’m so overwhelmed.” He laughed. “But in a good way. In such a fucking good way, it’s just that- fuck, sometimes, I don’t even remember how I got here. And it feels like we’re going so quickly, and other people- they spend years together before they fall in love enough to move in together, and-”

“You don’t know if you’re that in love with me?” He asked with a wince.

“No!” Freddie said quickly. “No, no, baby, I love you. I love you so much.” Freddie stood up on his toes to peck his lips quickly. “It’s just, to go from where I was then to where I am now, it’s a really big change.”

“We can always do this later if you’d rather.” He said softly. “I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want to do, sweetheart.”

“No, God, I want to. I think I’d be a very happy man if I woke up in a bed in this house with you beside me for the rest of my life.” He started to smile again. “I really like it here.”

“I want you to be happy.” Jim murmured. “Do you like this one the most?”

“Yeah.” He murmured, smiling up at Jim, hands clasped tightly in his. “I like the fact that it’s close to my family, too. I mean, I know I’ll be twenty-one this year, but, well, it’s just-”

“Stop trying to justify yourself.” Jim grinned. “If you like this one, we’ll get it.”

“I can’t believe it’s just so easy.” He whispered. “It’s so damn easy. You just choose where you want and you buy it.”

“We’ll think about it. We don’t have to make the decision just yet, darling, we can have a week or two to think it over.” He kissed Freddie’s forehead and smiled. “Would you like to decorate, or should I think about hiring somebody for that?”

“I’d love to do something up like this.” Freddie glanced around and smiled. “We’ll think about it, yeah. I think I should think about it for a while.”

“Of course.” Jim smiled. “You just let me know when you’ve thought enough.”

* * *

Jim stood up and looked out of the window, loosening off his tie; he tipped his head back for a moment, just allowing the stress of the morning to fall off his shoulders. He was known for being one of the sweeter bosses of the business - he’d earned the nickname Snow White for the way his rosy cheeks contrasted the dark curl that would fall in his eyes as he signed yet another document - and yet he knew he was on the verge of snapping at somebody. He picked up the coffee from his desk and closed his eyes as he took a swallow, running his hand agitatedly through his hair-

“You’ve got a visitor.” Cherry opened his door and looked over at him, pouted lips softening into a gentle smile when she saw the stress in the curve of his neck. Jim made a note to ask her the shade of her lipstick; the bright red stood out gorgeously against her black skin, and he thought the same would look good against Freddie’s. 

“I’m on lunch.” He yawned, and then smiled apologetically. “Is it super important?”

“He said it wasn’t business related.” She offered. “I can tell him to come back later if you’d rather.”

“Not business related?” He arched a curious eyebrow. “What does he look like?”

“Curly dark hair? He was wearing this- I suppose it’s like a slouchy white jumper, and platforms? I don’t know, I wasn’t paying too much attention.” She laughed.

Jim started to smile into his mug. “Sure. Send him in.”

Freddie was quiet as he entered the room, but Jim took a moment to admire him from the corner of his eye; he wore jeans that hugged every curve of his legs, tall platform boots, and a soft cashmere jumper that Jim had bought him a week earlier - as soon as he’d seen the artful drape of it over his collarbones, he knew that it would quickly become one of Jim’s favourites. Jim sat down heavily in his desk chair and put his mug down, before he finally looked back up at him. “What can I do for you, baby?”

It was as Freddie’s lips widened into a gorgeous, happy smile that Jim realised he’d painted them purple. 

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask!” Freddie walked over to him and landed in Jim’s lap, laying happily across him. “I missed you.”

“You saw me two days ago.” He chuckled, winding his arms around his lover and ducking down to press a kiss to his lips. “I love this colour.”

“I think it’s perfect.” He sighed happily, extending his legs out so that he could sit closer to his chest. 

“So, did you come here for a reason? Or are you just looking for some affection and attention?” He asked with a laugh.

“Both.” He smiled as Jim wound a curl around his finger. “Can I stay here all day?”

“I’ve got meetings.” Jim chuckled.

“I can be quiet!” Freddie giggled. “I’m surprised they let me in. I think the security guard thought I was going to try and blow him to get in.”

“I’m surprised they let you in. What did you say?” He asked curiously.

“I said I knew you. They didn’t believe me, but then I said I knew your middle name, and then he believed me.” He shrugged.

“I don’t have a middle name.” Jim laughed.

“You do now. I named you Robert.” Freddie grinned. “He believed me, that’s what matters.”

“You’re such a little shit.” Jim leaned down to kiss him again; he’d already accepted that he was spending the rest of his meetings with lipstick on. “So, beautiful boy, why are you here?”

Freddie’s cheeks flushed with delight at the nickname. “I think we should buy the flat.” He said sweetly. “I was in bed last night, and I- God, I felt really lonely, which I know is ridiculous. But I just wished that I had you next to me.”

Jim smiled at the way Freddie nosed at his collarbone, almost as though he was trying to get as close as possible to his lover to make up for the few hours they’d been apart; he squeezed around him to keep him closer. “I’m so glad you said that.” He grinned. “Because I may or may not have already put in an offer on it.”

Freddie’s eyes widened. “Is it ours?”

“I told them I’d have to check with you first.” He kissed the gentle part in his lips. “You want to say yes?”

“God, yes!” Freddie threw his arms around Jim’s neck. “When can we move in?”

“Tonight, if you want to.” He brushed Freddie’s hair back from his face and kissed his lips again.

“We don’t have any furniture.” He laughed softly.

“All we need for now is a mattress. I can take a couple of days off so that we can buy some pretty things to start making it our own.” He smiled. “Or you can stay at mine tonight?”

“Would you stay at mine?” He asked shyly. “I know it’s not big or fancy, my bed isn’t as comfortable as yours, but- well, I think I’ll give your father a break from me.”

“You’re my baby, if I want you around, then he’ll have to deal with it. But, darling, of course I’ll come to yours. It was strange sleeping without you last night.” He admitted. A knock on the door interrupted them and he sighed, kissing Freddie once again. “I’ve got to go into a meeting, sweetheart.”

Freddie pouted but nodded reluctantly. “Come to mine tonight. You haven’t gotten to do a proper Bulsara family dinner yet.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” He promised as Freddie stood up. “I’ll call the estate agent and finalise the sale before I come.”

“I can’t wait to tell them!” Freddie sang as he headed for the door, winking at Jim as he left. “I’ll see you later.”

* * *

There were four chairs at the Bulsara dining table, and so Freddie had willingly sat himself in Jim’s lap, complaining his legs were too tired to stand up for the meal. At one point, Kash had made Jim laugh so hard that his tea had dribbled into Freddie’s hair, and Freddie had spat a chickpea at him in revenge; they’d both descended into laughter when Bomi had referred to them as the children, to the point that Jim had had to pat Freddie’s back when he choked on his food.

“We’re not children!” Freddie replied, indignant, sending Jim a look so swollen with love that even Kash smiled at them. “Children can’t buy a flat.”

Jer looked at the both of them and couldn’t help smiling. “A flat?” She asked excitedly.

“Freddie and I are moving in together.” Jim kissed Freddie’s cheek. “We’ve bought a flat down in Holland Road.”

“It’s beautiful, Mama, you should see it!” Freddie smiled. “It’s the penthouse, it’s the sixth floor, you can see so much of the world from the windows and one of the walls of the bedroom is made totally of windows, and Jim agreed that I could put my easel there so I’ve got somewhere beautiful to paint.”

“We’re going to have a Bechstein in the lounge so that Freddie can write whenever he wants.” Jim grinned. “And a little upright behind the bed.”

“And I’ve got two shows coming up on Friday and Saturday!” He told them; there was a spark behind his eyes, a happiness, a joy, that hadn’t been there in so long. He was reclaiming himself in beautiful things, in silk and cashmere, in heavy quilts and rich coffees and boxes of chocolates between kisses; he reclaimed his identity in making love at midnight and making love to microphone stands.

“My, isn’t everything coming up your way?” Bomi asked with a smile. “This must be an excessive cost for you, Jim.”

“I’ve had far more expensive dates that haven’t made me half as happy.” He kissed Freddie’s cheek with a smile. “I think I’d consider myself a very lucky man if I got to live with him for even a week.”

“And I hope it’s much longer than that.” Freddie replied sweetly. 

Kash shook her head. “God, you’re disgusting.” She grinned. 

“Darling, find a man who makes you happy and you’ll find yourself just the same.” Freddie said philosophically, lifting his wine glass to his lips once again.

* * *

_ Freddie’s cheeks were flushed and his breathing was heavy; his palms had left marks on the mirror, and messes of other kinds. “I’ll never get tired of that.” He laughed, letting his head fall back against Jim’s collarbone and catching his lips in a lazy kiss. _

_ “I’m surprised you were that quiet.” Jim grinned, letting his hand skim the lace robe that covered Freddie’s bare ass. He looked at them both in the mirror and then kissed him again, overwhelmed by his beauty. _

_ “Only when it’s necessary.” Freddie winked, watching as Jim pressed lazy kisses to his neck. “Tell me you love me, darling.” _

_ “Oh, baby.” Jim looked at his eyes in the mirror and smiled. “I love you so much.” _

_ “Again.” Freddie whispered, eyelids fluttering as he kissed over the sweet spot on his neck. "Again, again, gorgeous, please." _

_ “I love you, I love you. I’m crazy about you.” He ran his hands over Freddie’s arms. “You’re addictive.” _

_ “I prefer the word intoxicating.” Freddie smiled wickedly and let the robe fall from his shoulders, standing proud and naked in front of the mirror as Jim’s hands trailed his body. _

_ “Heady.” Jim murmured, lips just below Freddie’s ear. “You’re like the embodiment of sex.” _

_ He laughed lazily, letting his eyes close. “Then you’re a lucky man, aren’t you?” _


	17. Cookie Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming together as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so let's be real I have no idea how AmEx even works now let alone in the 70s, so let's call it creative license!
> 
> \- smut warning for the whole of the first part!

He opened the door to his office, balancing a pile of papers in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other; his glasses were precariously propped on his head and he had to catch his pen as it wavered precariously. He pushed the door to the side with his hip, still half-reading, only looking up when he became aware that somebody was in his office.

One leg hung over the edge of his desk, the other knee pushed up by the flat of his foot; Freddie lay back with his head cushioned on the palms of his hands, simply watching him.

“What are you doing here?” Jim laughed, all the tension of the morning seeming to drain from his body as he dropped his papers unceremoniously on a chair. 

Freddie took the mug of coffee and winked, taking a long swallow as Jim watched the movement of his throat. “I got bored. You’re my favourite pastime.” He replied sweetly, sitting up and spreading his legs so that Jim could stand between them. “And maybe I wanted a kiss.”

“So you came the whole way into the city on the tube just so you could have a kiss?” Jim grinned. “We really need to start living together as soon as we can. I feel like I’m not fulfilling your affection needs.”

“I just missed you, baby.” Freddie replied sweetly, rubbing his hands over Jim’s shoulders and pulling him a little closer. They kissed softly, gently, until Freddie parted his lips for Jim; as soon as he felt Freddie’s breath hitch, something ticked in his head.

“And did your brain make that decision?” He asked, dropping his voice down a tone and noting Freddie’s shiver. “Or was it your dick?”

Freddie caught his lip between his teeth, as though he’d been found out, and then his smile turned wicked. “You said you were doing all the boring acquisitions stuff today.” He said, thumbing open the first button of Jim’s shirt, the second, the third. “And you’ve been awfully stressed at work recently, so I thought I could help relax you.”

Jim arched an eyebrow and pushed him back down against the desk; Freddie grinned back at him, propping himself up on one elbow. “And how did you think you’d do that?” He asked, rubbing his hands over Freddie’s thighs. 

Freddie stretched his arms out overhead, arching his back suggestively, and then met Jim’s eyes again. “I can either be under your desk or over it, darling, I don’t mind at all.” He purred.

“Christ.” Jim leaned over him, a knee against the desk, and kissed him hungrily; one of Freddie’s hands twisted in his hair as Jim used his spare hand to pinch his nipple through his jumper. “I can’t believe you’re here for a quickie on my fucking lunch break.”

“I could’ve rubbed one out, darling, but it seemed awfully unfair.” Freddie arched his hips up as Jim yanked on the waist of his jeans. “All alone, everyone else at work…”

“Oh, it’s a hard life.” Jim bit at Freddie’s lower lip, making him gasp. “Turn over.”

Freddie did as he was told, heart beating hard in his chest; his toes barely brushed the floor as he lay folded over his desk. “What are you going to do to me?” He asked teasingly, though he was breathless.

“Everything.” Jim murmured, biting at the back of his neck once more before he worked Freddie’s trousers down over his ass. 

“Don’t you need to lock the door?” He laughed, biting his lip, though he pushed his ass out further for him.

“No lock. I suppose you’ll just have to be quiet.” He smirked when Freddie looked back at him, squeezing his ass lightly before he leaned down behind him.

Freddie shoved a hand over his mouth as he pulled his cheeks apart and licked straight over his hole; his legs trembled from the strain and the arousal of the sensation. One hand closed around his cock and he couldn’t help letting out a shaky moan- he licked, soft and flat, over his hole, the other hand working him until he was straining in his fist. “Jim-” He whimpered, voice thin.

“That’s more like it.” He smirked, pushing his tongue in slightly. “Oh, baby, you’re tight.”

Freddie whined wantonly as he sucked on one finger and pushed it in slowly, crooking it just right to rub at his prostate; his fingers scrabbled to hold onto the edge of the desk, gasping for breath as he rubbed there, blunt, no finesse.

“Oh God-” Freddie moaned, head hitting the wood with a dull thud, pushing back into the sensation so desperately as the feeling of ecstasy overtook him. 

Jim pulled out and spat on two fingers, pushing them in again, as hard as he could, hard enough to make Freddie moan into his arm. He lapped lazily around his fingers, the whole sensation so hot and wet- he couldn’t help fucking him harder with those fingers just to watch the sinful arch of his back. 

“So what you really wanted, baby, was to get fucked.” He grinned and bit gently on the curve of his ass, before he pushed his tongue in alongside his fingers; he was obsessed with the taste of him, the way he would chase every pleasurable sensation as though he’d never been touched before.

“Jim-” Freddie gasped, looking back over his shoulder; he looked debauched, flushed, his hair hanging in his face and his lips parted. Jim smirked as he put his fingers back to his mouth, sucking on the third; Freddie shivered with anticipation and then gasped at the stretch as they pushed inside. “Oh, fuck!”

“I told you, baby, quiet.” He warned, fucking him hard and deep with three fingers until his cock was leaking on the side of the desk. “This what you wanted, hm? What you needed?”

“Need you.” Freddie gasped, pushing back further to spread his ass for him. “Please, want you so badly.”

“Seeing as you asked so nicely.” He unzipped his work slacks and shoved them just past his hips, enough to free his cock- he was aching just from the feeling of Freddie around his fingers. “Never satisfied until you’ve had it all, hm?”

Freddie moaned as he spat on his hole and started to push in slowly; he tipped his head back, arching his back harshly, as hands settled on his hips. Jim groaned at the feeling of Freddie clenching around him as he took it slowly, getting lost in the sensation tightness around his cock; he let out a rough moan as he bottomed out, listening to the way Freddie panted.

“Fuck-” Freddie gasped as he pulled back a little and snapped his hips in, hitting deep; he moaned roughly at the drag over his prostate. “Oh, Jim, come on, please-”

Freddie shrieked as he sped up the pace of his hips, thrusting hard and perfect into his prostate- Jim groaned at the way it made him clench and leak, the tightness of his ass so perfect around his aching cock. Jim pulled him up roughly, so that his back was pressed against Jim’s chest, and pressed a hand over his mouth. “Thought you could stay quiet?” He murmured in his ear.

Freddie’s eyes rolled back a little; the pleasure of the angle was overwhelming, giving him the perfect leverage to hit his prostate on every thrust; he grabbed hard onto the desk in front of him, not caring in the slightest what he knocked off. He moaned against Jim’s palm, unable to help himself, and thrust into the air in front of him; his cock pulsed with the pleasure. 

“Fuck-” Jim gasped, losing composure as he pounded hard into him. The sight of Freddie, straining and helpless, made him groan into his hair. “Fuck, look at you.”

He tipped his head back against Jim’s collarbone, eyes hooded with pleasure, and moaned against his palm; he pushed back desperately into his thrusts, chasing the pleasure. “Fucking hell.” Jim gasped, hand slipping from his mouth to wrap around his cock quickly. “Come on, baby, come on.”

Freddie turned his head so that his mouth was muffled against Jim’s neck, thrusting forward into his hand quickly. “Jim-” He moaned. “Gorgeous- fuck-”

“Fuck-” Jim echoed, thrusting faster. “Gonna come, baby-”

Freddie gasped as he pulled out and came on his ass instead; he fell heavily against the desk, whining wantonly. Jim groaned as he stroked himself a few more times, before falling heavily to his knees behind him; he cleaned up the come with his tongue and then lapped over his hole. “Come on-” Freddie whined, pushing back against his tongue until it slipped inside him and his complaints dissolved into moans.

He stumbled a little as Jim turned him around quickly, slipping three fingers back into his hole and closing his lips around the head of his cock. He brought a hand to his mouth to keep himself quiet, thrusting his hips forward as soon as Jim started to sink down on him.

“I’m gonna come-” Freddie let out a strangled whimper as Jim’s eyes met his own and he winked; he tipped his head back as he swallowed hard around him and moaned up at the ceiling, no longer caring about how much noise he made. As soon as Jim’s fingers pressed up against his prostate, he cried out, coming hard down his throat; Jim smirked around him, running his tongue lightly over him to clean him up.

“Fucking hell-” Freddie gasped, pushing him away with a laugh and then laying down on his desk. “Christ.” He laughed.

“Weren’t expecting that?” Jim teased, fastening up his slacks and then sitting down in his desk chair, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I’ve learned to never expect anything of you.” Freddie tilted his head to the side and smiled lazily at his lover. “You got an oral fixation or something?”

Jim’s cheeks flushed and he laughed. “What?”

“You seem to take every opportunity you get to suck me off.” Freddie grinned. “I’m not complaining.”

“I just like it, sue me.” He helped Freddie smooth out his jeans and then leaned his elbows on the desk next to him. “You broke my pen holder.”

“Shame.” Freddie replied, leaning over him to his suit jacket and fishing out a packet of Treasurers; he lit one and then lay back down.

“It was crystal.” He arched an eyebrow.

“That’s too bad.” Freddie pouted back at him, before he descended into a smirk. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t worth a fucking pen holder.”

Jim laughed and stroked his thumb over Freddie’s cheek, the skin irresistibly smooth. “I love the fact that you come and surprise me at work, baby, I won’t lie.”

“And I’m lucky that you can’t get fired.” Freddie grinned and reached up for him. “I want kisses.”

“You always want kisses.” Jim replied, but leaned forwards to indulge him anyway; the press of their lips was softer now, more gentle, more loving. “You’re the most affectionate man I’ve ever met.”

“I’ll take the title.” Freddie swung his legs around the desk and landed himself in Jim’s lap, straddling his hips and wrapping his arms around his neck. “You know, I’m very glad I nearly killed myself shovelling your snow.”

Jim chuckled and leaned back comfortably in his chair, arms wrapping around Freddie’s waist. “I’m very glad you did too.”

“Have you finally got the bed sorted?” Freddie asked with a smile. “Because I’ve packed up all my stuff at home, you know, I’m living out of suitcases.”

Jim reached in his pocket for a key and dropped it in Freddie’s palm. “I’ve sorted out the water, the gas and electric, got some things in the kitchen, the bed, and a sofa. But if you don’t like any of it, we can change it.”

Freddie squealed and hugged him tightly. “Can we move in tonight?” He asked excitedly. “Please, Jim, please?”

He leaned closer, until their lips were nearly touching, and smiled. “I don’t see why not.” He murmured, kissing him softly.

“Can you come and pick me up?” Freddie asked, almost breathless with excitement. “I’ve only got two bags, but they’ll be a bitch on the tube, and I really want to bring my screen for the bedroom.”

“Of course.” He smiled and brushed his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “Oh, and I nearly forgot-” He opened his wallet and took out a card, dropping it in Freddie’s hand. “You said you wanted to be able to spend money on silly things, and I thought it would be easier than you having to ask for cash all the time.”

“What even is it?” He asked, holding it up and looking at it. “Oh, it has my name on it!”

“It’s a Gold AmEx, baby. You can use it instead of cash.” He chuckled. “Your credit score is horrible, so they only let me open one for you if I put a good amount of money on it. And I doubt even you could burn through a couple of million in a few months.”

Freddie’s mouth fell open. “You’re fucking joking.”

“Consider it a little treat.” He grinned.

“Little?” Freddie laughed, looking at the card in his hand again. “You call that little?”

“Well, you’ll be needing money for paint, furniture, you might want to get the kitchen redone, you’ll be wanting to buy things for the cats, and you’re already halfway to building yourself a brand new wardrobe.” He chuckled.

“Even if I got all of that, it’d only be- what, ten grand at most? And that’s if I splashed out.” He said incredulously. “How much is actually on here?”

“Four million. You won’t have to worry about it for a while.” He laughed. “And it’s linked to mine, so if you somehow spend all that, then you’ll just start spending what’s on mine instead.”

“I don’t think I’ll get through it for the rest of my life.” Freddie laughed and finally looked up at him again. “I could buy a house in Holborn for less than half of this.”

Jim shrugged, though his grin was a little cocky. “I said I’d keep you comfortable, didn’t I?”

Freddie grinned back at him. “I know exactly what I’m doing when you kick me out of here.”

“And what would that be?” Jim asked. 

“That would be telling.” He teased. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“I love surprises.” He kissed Freddie indulgently again, long and slow and deep; he could get lost in the rhythm and beauty of his lips. 

“So, what time are you picking me up?” Freddie asked as they broke apart. “God, I can’t wait for tonight.”

“Well, I promised I’d go to my mother for dinner-” He started.

“Your mother?” Freddie asked quickly. “Shit, I thought that she- well, you never spoke about her.”

“No!” Jim laughed. “No, she lives up in Hampstead. She divorced my dad when I was sixteen, and she didn’t do half bad from it, so she bought herself a flat up there. I stayed with Dad because I was training to be a hairdresser at the time, and the salon was in Chelsea, so it wasn’t such a big commute.”

Freddie bit his lip, suddenly turning shy. “So- do you want me-” He mumbled, looking down at his lap.

“Hey-” Jim tilted his head back up and stroked his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “She’s much nicer than Dad is, I promise. But I won’t make you come if you hate the idea.”

“No, no, I don’t hate it.” He said quickly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s just- well, your Dad didn’t like me too much.”

“She’s very different from him, baby, that’s why she couldn’t stand him any longer.” Jim chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead, coaxing a soft smile from him. “I think she’ll really like you.”

“Okay.” He agreed, biting on his thumbnail. “Should I- you know- change anything?”

“Change anything?” He repeated, frowning. “No, no, of course not!”

He nodded and bit his lip. “Just- you know- if anything’s too much-”

“She’ll love you just as you are.” Jim promised, pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. “Where will you be at five?”

Freddie stammered for a moment, trying to think. “Leicester Square, probably.”

“I’ll meet you by the fountains.” He smiled back at him. “Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah.” Freddie smiled back at him and squeezed his hands. “If she’s not as nice as you make her sound, I’ll kick your ass.”

* * *

Freddie was always a distinctive presence, no matter where he stood, no matter the crowd he was in; there was a wicked glint in his dark eyes that made him stand out, as though he were an angel shining amongst darkness, or as though he had horns atop his head. He was impossible to ignore, no matter where he was: he held the attention of every man in the bar, or the audience, and Jim could never tear his eyes away from the curve of lithe hips and the cascade of his hair as it fell in his face. He supposed it was confidence, a want to be seen, that made him shine so brightly- while others tried to hide, Freddie always wanted more attention, affection, adoration, love.

He was never difficult to find, though he was small; the heeled boots he wore pushed him up taller, and it was difficult to ignore the tumble of his curls as they melted down his back-

Even so, Jim didn’t realise, until he’d been staring at him for a minute, that he was looking at Freddie.

“Fuck me-” He gasped, coming forwards, his hands flew straight to Freddie’s hair, thumbing artfully trimmed sides, silky soft under his hands, and then combing through the longer hair on top-

He’d bleached it bright white.

“When you’ve had your fill, darling.” He replied, voice filled with lazy confidence again.

“What have you done to yourself?” He asked with a laugh, pulling back to look him over. “Christ, Fred, you look incredible.”

“I’ve always wanted to try it.” He grinned, running his hand through it; the colour stood out against the tan of his skin. “They say blondes have more fun.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s girls.” He laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet. “I think it looks incredible.”

“I was two minutes away from having it done pink.” Freddie stood on his toes to kiss him again. 

“It looks so strange that it’s straight. I’m used to your curls.” Jim smiled and brushed his fingers through it again. “I suppose this is my surprise?”

“Oh, absolutely. My surprise is all about making myself look like as much of a twink as possible.” He joked. “I’ve never gotten to experiment like this before.”

“I love it, baby, I love it so much.” Jim promised; he looked him over once more before he realised something was missing. “You haven’t got anything on your lips.”

He blushed a little. “I thought I wouldn’t, you know, if we were seeing your mum.”

Jim frowned and cupped his cheek. “If we were going anywhere else, would you want to wear one?”

Freddie nodded shyly. “I really like that purple I bought.”

“So put it on.” He promised. “She’ll really like it, I promise. She’s an artist.”

The word seemed to melt a little of the tension from Freddie, and his smile was a little more excited when he looked up from grabbing the tube from his pocket. “You didn’t tell me that, either.”

“She has a piece up in the Tate. She’s a proper artist.” He grinned and held up the mirror for Freddie when he pushed it into his hand. “God, I love this colour.”

“Me too.” Freddie smiled as he applied it, rubbing his lips together and then pouting in the mirror. “I can’t believe I didn’t always used to do this.”

“I’m going to take you shopping in Covent Garden before long. See how many different lipsticks we can get you in one day.” Jim admired the way the colour stood at a contrast to the bright white of his hair, and then took his hand, pocketing the mirror. “Come on, beautiful boy, or we’ll be late.”

“I love it when you call me that.” Freddie followed him across the street and into the tube station, grabbing his ticket and pushing it through the machine. “Cue nine hundred stairs.”

“Misery guts.” Jim teased, taking his hand as they ran down the stairs together; he screeched, nearly overbalancing, as Freddie jumped the last three. “Christ, don’t do that!”

“Or what?” Freddie teased, walking backwards out onto the platform. “Where are we going?”

“Just to Hampstead station.” He pulled Freddie onto the train and into the seat next to him, and then wound a comfortable arm around his waist. “I think it should be a legal requirement that you’re this close to me all the time.”

“I don’t know, darling, your work seems awfully boring. I’d probably just sit there and draw caricatures of your workmates, and then everyone would hate me because I’d give them huge noses.” He grinned up at Jim and stole a quick kiss. “I’m getting all the kisses today.”

“I think you’ve earned them.” Jim grinned, brushing his fingers through his hair. “You’re making me feel underdressed.”

“You’re wearing a three-piece suit! Technically, I’m the underdressed one, I’ve just made up for it with lipstick.” He laughed and smoothed his hands over his waistcoat. “I could eat you alive in this.”

“Shush!” Jim laughed, swatting his side. 

“It’s true!” Freddie grinned back at him and then rested his head on his shoulder. “You know, Mama had my grandparents down for dinner the other day, and it’s the first time she’s done it since we had to move into the old flat. She used to do it every week.” He explained. “And it’s because she’s got enough to feed us all, now, and she’s so proud of the house. She’s been painting all the walls, she’s so excited. I’ve promised I’ll paint her a picture to put on the wall of the lounge.”

Jim grinned and kissed the top of his head. “I like knowing they’re as happy as you are. We’d had that house for years, you know, we rented it out, but it’d been standing empty a few months because we kept forgetting to put it back on the market, and I figured Dad wouldn’t notice if one of the houses was suddenly occupied again. He put me in charge of the houses for a reason.”

“I can’t thank you enough.” Freddie smiled sweetly at him. “I mean, I’m more excited about our flat, but to them, it’s absolutely everything they’d ever dreamed of.”

“It’s more important that all of you are safe and happy. I’d hate the idea of them being cold and starving while we lived it up in luxury.” Jim rubbed his waist lightly.

“Most fiancés wouldn’t think about that, but you do.” He squeezed Jim’s spare hand. “God, I’m disgustingly in love with you.”

“Hey, there’s a lot to love.” He joked, taking Freddie’s hand and standing when the train reached their stop. “Come on, beautiful boy.”

Freddie grinned and followed behind him, breaking into a run when Jim decided he was going to bolt for the escalators. “You bastard!” Freddie laughed, breathless, chasing him as he continued to run. “Jim! Jim!” He screeched. “I’m wearing fucking heels, I can’t keep up with you!”

Jim ran to the barriers and waited on the other side while Freddie pushed his ticket through, flushed and breathless, though laughing to himself; he squealed as he picked him up on the other side. “Why are you carrying me?” He laughed.

“I just made you run, which’ll make your feet knack.” He pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “It’s literally two minutes away, so I thought I’d carry you so we can get there faster. You can barely walk in those.”

“Hey!” Freddie laughed. “I’m not that bad!”

“They’re far too high for you.” He teased.

“How do you think you learn to walk in high shoes?” He asked, rolling his eyes playfully, though he allowed Jim to carry him. “I feel like a prince.”

“You practically are.” He laughed. “You’ve got servants all over the place.”

“I’d like to point out that you did this voluntarily.” Freddie arched an eyebrow and brushed his hair back into place. “Have you kissed off all of my lipstick? You look like you’re wearing most of it.”

“Most of it.” Jim grinned. “You’ll have to put it on blind, I haven’t got a third hand for the mirror.”

“Oh, I’ve already done the outlines, it’ll be fine.” Freddie reapplied it quickly before Jim put him down on the cobbled streets. He leaned up to wipe the lipstick from Jim’s lips with a grin. “Are we here?”

“We are.” He smiled back at him and pressed the buzzer on the door for the fifth floor flat. “You’ll love her flat.”

“Lots of promises.” Freddie smirked as the speaker crackled.

“Hello?” An unfamiliar voice spoke. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Ma. Let me in.” Jim chuckled. “We’re getting cold out here.”

“We?” She asked curiously, pressing the latch for the door so he could push it open. 

They ran up the stairs quickly, and Jim knocked on the door to her flat, winding an arm around Freddie’s waist to reassure him. She opened it quickly, glancing over both of them, and then her mouth fell open- she sidestepped Jim and hugged Freddie tightly. “My, aren’t you a beauty!” 

She was unlike anything Freddie had ever expected; she wore a long, loose white dress, her earrings huge, her purple hair thrown back messily into a bun, though her curls escaped at the sides and down the back. She smelled like sugar and turpentine, and her hug felt so warm and familiar that he almost couldn’t believe that they’d never met before.

Freddie laughed, cheeks pinkening, and hugged her back, careful not to get lipstick on her dress. “Ma, this is Freddie.” Jim introduced him, grinning as he watched them. “Freddie, this is my mother, Sienna.”

“Come in!” She waved them both in, and Freddie fell in love with the flat immediately; the room stretched the whole way to her kitchen, smelling of vanilla and incense, and she had a huge pile of canvases stacked against the wall, all half-decorated. There was a plate of biscuits and a plate of pastries on the counter, and the sight of them made his mouth water; he glanced up at Jim, a little incredulous.

She hugged Jim quickly, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and smiled as she sat down in the lounge chair; Freddie sat down on the sofa next to Jim when he was pulled into his arms. “I think we have a lot of catching up to do.” She grinned at them both.

“I think we do.” Jim agreed, watching Freddie’s eyes study the artwork on the walls with the same all-absorbing gaze as he had the art in his dining room on their first night together. “As I said, this is Freddie, my boyfriend.”

Freddie grinned shyly at her and ran a hand through his hair. “Hi.” He laughed softly.

“So, tell me everything!” She said excitedly. “Where did you meet?”

“I came and shovelled the snow off his path when we were having the terrible weather.” Freddie smiled up at him. “And then he tracked down the bar that I worked in, and he found me.”

“Oh, it’s a modern Cinderella story.” She winked playfully at them. “How long have you been together now?”

“It’s-” Jim faltered, trying to think.

“Two months, a week and four days.” Freddie said quickly, though he blushed harder. “I count dates all the time.”

“God, you’re so sweet.” She grinned at him. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m still working in the bar for now, but I’m also in a band. We tend to do a show every couple of weeks at the moment, we’re in the process of writing our next album.” He explained. “At the moment, it doesn’t make so much money, so the bar at least helps me pay some of the way.”

“Although I’m sure this one spoils you.” She smiled at Jim. “What’s the band called?”

“Oh- we’re called Queen.” Freddie smiled. “Silly name, I know.”

“No shit!” She stood up quickly and went to the record player by the window, finding three of the albums she had tucked away underneath. “As in this Queen?”

“Yeah!” He glanced at Jim, cheeks so red and smile so happy. “Yeah, I’m the singer.”

“An angel’s face and a devil’s voice.” She laughed. “I like to listen to your third when I’m painting. I find it always inspires me.”

“Fantasy and debauchery.” Freddie smiled.

“Exactly!” She walked into the kitchen and filled the kettle quickly. “Tea, boys?”

“Freddie likes Earl Grey.” Jim told her, standing up and sitting on one of the barstools instead; Freddie took a moment to admire a painting hanging on the wall before he joined him. “You know, Ma, he’s an artist too.”

“An artist and musician who likes Earl Grey tea and purple lipstick? I think you might’ve fallen in love with my long lost child.” She joked, picking out a mug for Freddie that matched the same purple. “Help yourselves to the treats- cream cheese cookie cups and cinnamon buns, whichever you’d like, or both.”

“Are you sure?” Freddie asked, almost overwhelmed by her hospitality.

“I’d make the most of it. You look like you could afford a little more meat on your bones, darling, and this one is almost completely useless in the kitchen, apart from the loaf of bread I taught him to make.” She chuckled. “His father always insisted on having a housekeeper, so I never got to teach him to make good food.”

“We’ve got a flat together in Holland Road now.” Jim told her, pushing the cinnamon buns towards Freddie- he grabbed one eagerly, grinning at how good it tasted as soon as he sunk his teeth into it. 

“We’re moving in tonight.” Freddie added. “Tonight’s our first proper night.”

“If I find out you’re not pulling your weight in chores, Hutton, I’ll be the first to smack you around the head.” She warned playfully, setting the mugs down in front of them and picking up one of the cookie cups. 

“Oh, we’re getting a cleaner, I think both of us are far too busy for that.” Jim chuckled. “But I promise, Ma, I will do my best to learn to cook.”

“I do love cooking.” Freddie shrugged. “But I grew up with Indian and Parsi cooking, so you probably wouldn’t like some of what I make.”

“He is something of a spice masochist.” She told Freddie with a laugh. “Darling, I’m simply desperate to see what you can draw.”

“Oh, I-” Freddie thought for a second. “I don’t tend to use a lot of pencils.”

“No, me neither! I’d just love to see something, it doesn’t matter, anything.” She smiled.

“I can do one of those contour portraits.” He said after a moment. “Though I prefer to do them in pen.”

A pen and paper appeared in front of him in less than a second, and she grabbed her own pen. “I never get to draw with people, it’s a treat. Shall we do Jim?”

Jim rolled his eyes but grinned. “Go on, then.” He chuckled. “I’m always her muse.”

It was only halfway through the drawing that Freddie realised Jim had picked up possibly the smallest kitten he’d ever seen; he gasped, pen falling with a clatter, and reached over to pet its soft little head. “Oh, Jim, it’s beautiful!”

“He’s my other little baby, he’s called Milo.” Sienna grinned as he watched Freddie; he looked like all his Christmases had come at once as he hugged the kitten to his chest.

“God, he’s gorgeous.” Freddie kissed his soft little head and pet under his chin. “I love all-black cats.”

“He’s my little familiar.” She joked. “He’s more affectionate to me than my actual son.”

“Ma, that sounds so bad!” Jim stood up quickly and hugged around her neck from behind, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You know I love you.”

“I know you smell. I can tell you’ve been on the tube, you’re sweaty.” She laughed, though she leaned up to hug him back.

“That’s because he made us run through both fucking tube stations, for some reason.” Freddie grinned and went back to his drawing. “Down stairs and up the escalators. And then he complained that I was being slow, so he carried me.”

“That’s because he’s never tried running in heels.” She laughed as she watched him take another cookie from the tray. “Darling, I must ask, where is that gorgeous lipstick from?”

Freddie took it from his pocket and handed it to her with a smile. “It’s a Charlotte Tilbury. It’s one of the few silly things I’ve bought for myself recently.” He chuckled. “Jim’s obsessed with buying me different colours.”

“Oh, I love this one especially. And it goes so well with your hair, too.” She complimented. “You know, I always wanted a boy that would be a little more into fashion, but his extent is expensive suit jackets.”

“So many unfulfilled dreams I never knew you had.” Jim chuckled, petting Milo as he wandered back over the kitchen counter to him. “Freddie got his hair done today.”

“It’s usually dark curls.” He chuckled, running his hand through it. “So I decided a little shake up was in order.”

“Oh, definitely! I think light hair against darker skin is absolutely gorgeous.” She agreed. 

He finished off his drawing and then glanced at him again. “I think I’m finished.”

“Let me see!” She said excitedly, taking the paper from him; Freddie took a moment to reapply the lipstick before he put it back in his pocket. “Freddie, this is incredible!”

“Thank you.” He grinned. “I know it’s quite stylised, but it takes me far too long to draw realistically.”

“Jim, look at this. You should put it up in your flat.” She showed him the drawing, and then put her own alongside it.

“A drawing of myself?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Why not?” She laughed. “Who’s do you like best?”

He looked between them for a moment, and then grinned at Freddie. “Of course I like Freddie’s the most.”

Freddie squealed and threw his arms around Jim, so happy to finally feel like he was a part of his family, like he was meant to be there; Jim winked at his mother over Freddie’s shoulder, and simply pressed a kiss to his temple.

* * *

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever gotten undressed in front of you without expecting to be fucked.” Freddie chuckled as he let his jeans fall to the floor and pulled his sweater up overhead; he replaced it with a soft shirt of Jim’s and glanced at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were pink with warmth and happiness, and he looked good and healthy as he stood there. 

“I doubt it’s a view I’ll ever get tired of.” Jim yawned and pulled back the blanket a little. “I’ve decided that the left side of the bed is mine.”

“And the middle will be mine.” He joked and disappeared into the bathroom for a second - Jim could see his shadow cast by the light - and came back into the room with a little dropper bottle, applying just a little to the apples of his cheeks. “It makes me look all glowy.”

“I don’t think you need any help with that.” Jim chuckled and lay back on his arm. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to be so domestic with someone.”

Freddie laughed and kicked off his socks as he stood by the mirror - he threw them in the laundry basket before he turned off the light to the bathroom, leaving only the bedside lamp next to Jim and the gentle patter of rainwater against the window. He crawled into bed beside him, smiling when Jim opened an arm for him to snuggle into; he rested his cheek against his chest, curling as close as he could, and his smile only widened as Jim helped him smooth out the heavy quilt over his shoulder so that he wouldn’t get cold. 

“Why didn’t you live with Tom?” He asked softly. “You were both rich, surely you could’ve afforded a place together.”

“Oh, I kept putting it off. I didn’t really want to live with him.” He admitted. “He was just dirty, you know, you put your clothes in the laundry and you help me keep the house tidy, and that just makes me so much more peaceful. Plus, he never really pushed it, because it would’ve made it harder for him to have guys home if I’d been there. We just never really got around to it.”

“Why did you want to move in with me so quickly?” He asked, voice even softer, sleep-heavy; Jim’s voice, so deep and rich, was so soothing when he felt so tired. 

“You make my heart happy.” He admitted, sounding childlike. “I kept feeling like I wanted to see more and more of you, and I never had that with him. With him, it was touch and go, I had enough of him once we’d been together a few hours. I’d always be sick of him by the end of a holiday.” He kissed Freddie’s forehead and cuddled up to him a little more. “But every time you left, I wished that you’d stayed. I’d lay in bed and it just wouldn’t be the same without you there, because I wanted you there. That was the difference- I wanted you with me all the time, and every second I spent without you there just felt wasted.”

Freddie smiled up at him and stole one last kiss, all toothpaste-mint and innocence. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“And I hope you never do again, otherwise I’ll start having competition.” He joked and rested his cheek on Freddie’s head. “I love you, beautiful boy.”

“I love you too, gorgeous.” Freddie murmured sweetly, letting his eyes flutter closed; once Jim had seen how peaceful he looked, he let his own close heavily. “Goodnight.”

Jim pressed a lazy kiss to his forehead and then sighed happily. “Goodnight, darling. Sleep tight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the length of this makes up for how long you've had to wait! It would've been up earlier but I've been quite unwell after giving blood yesterday, so this morning was the first time I felt like I could finish it!


	18. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realisations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry a little filler chapter (little? it's 4000 words but I'm setting up the next few chapters, forgive me!)

He supposed he saw Freddie differently to almost every other man in the world. Others saw a serpentine smirk, danger, claws that would dig in and would never, ever let go; they saw a trap, scarlet lips stretched in a cruel smile, all tied up neatly in a package that would send them straight to hell. It was as though others doubted his humanity, saw him only as the embodiment of temptation, something to be resisted and fought, or else to be sucked into for all eternity - it was as though they were frightened of knowing he was closer to them then they’d ever considered. 

He wondered what they’d think of him now.

Jim stood still in the hallway, still grasping his coat and briefcase; water dripped from the ends of his hair, and his coat was sodden, soaking him halfway to the bone. He was fixed to the spot, watching his lover as he teetered precariously on one of the dining chairs, trying to finish cutting in the painting of the wall up by the ceiling - he stood one one foot, pushed up to his toes, trying to use his other leg for balance. He wore nothing on his legs, only an old t-shirt of Jim’s that hung soft and loose past his hips and rode up dangerously every time he stretched out-

“Are you wearing a thong?” Jim asked abruptly, dropping everything on the floor by the door. 

Freddie turned around quickly, managing to keep his balance though the chair wobbled dangerously, and then smirked. “So what if I am?” He asked sweetly.

“I thought you didn’t wear underwear?” He asked with a laugh, coming forwards and reaching for his lover. Freddie grinned and leaned down, wrapping his arms around Jim’s neck, and then wound his legs around his waist; he placed a triumphant kiss on his lips as Jim’s hands went to his ass to support him.

“I thought I should switch things up a little, darling, and these are just so comfy.” He grinned and kissed him again when Jim leaned closer. “I went into Chelsea to go to Farrow and Ball, you see, but then I couldn’t help but go into Strip.” He smirked as one of Jim’s hands stroked over his smooth skin. “And it was awfully pricey to get everything done, so I thought I would buy you a little something that meant you could make the most of it.”

“I never thought my money would be going on waxing and lipsticks.” Jim chuckled and kissed him again. “Well, baby, you look utterly edible.”

“Which was the plan!” He said happily. “Do you like the paint I bought?”

He’d chosen a dark grey, complimentary to the black sofa that Jim had bought; Jim could only imagine how incredible it would look when it was finished. “I think it’s wonderful, darling. You’re making us a proper bachelor pad.” He grinned.

“Except neither of us are bachelors.” Freddie laughed. “I was thinking of doing our room all black and white, I might buy a new frame for the bed, and then putting in little pieces of red. Make it nice and sexy.” He grinned. “I love designing.”

“I put all my faith in you, baby.” Jim kissed him once more and then sat him down on the kitchen counter as he walked over to the kettle. 

“I’m going to see if I can get us a super tiny dining table so that we can have this as a proper kitchen island.” Freddie smoothed his hand over the breakfast bar. “And I’ve decided we’re getting a new bathroom. I want a lovely freestanding bath and a huge shower that we can both fit in, and underfloor heating, and I think I’m going to make one of the walls into a hidden cabinet so that we can hide all of our things away.”

“Guilty.” Jim grinned. “I own far too many hair products.”

“Nothing to rival the skincare range I’m going to have, darling.” Freddie lay back dramatically and sighed with happiness. “This place is going to look incredible. I can’t believe there’s just no budget at all, I can do whatever I’d like.”

“Might as well buy furniture that’ll withstand whatever we do on it, and paint that can handle a few scuffs. This place might last us a lifetime.” Jim leaned over him to kiss him softly. “Tea?”

“Oh, please, I’m dying for a drink.” Freddie smiled and watched him happily.

“I must say, darling, I’m very excited about your renovations.” Jim smiled over his shoulder at him. “But please, when you buy us a new bed frame, can you make sure it’s got bars?”

Freddie’s cheeks scorched scarlet and he grinned wider. “Why would that be, lovely?”

“I’m sure your imagination can figure it out.” He replied simply, placing a mug down beside him.

“I’ve seen a lovely metal one made up of bars in a geometric shape, darling, would that be acceptable?” He asked sweetly, shivering as Jim’s hand smoothed slowly over his thigh, and then up over his bare stomach. 

“Could I lock a pair of handcuffs around it?” He asked, dropping his voice down a little.

Freddie bit his lip in an attempt to hide his smirk. “With perfect ease.”

“Then it’s a yes from me.” He kissed his lips again and then stood up, sipping his own tea. 

“You’re such a bastard.” Freddie laughed, throwing an arm over his eyes lazily.

Jim rolled his eyes affectionately. “Aren’t you working tonight, sweetness?”

Freddie sat up, eyes wide. “What time is it?” He asked quickly.

Jim checked his watch. “About twenty past six.”

“Fuck!” Freddie jumped off the counter and ran into the bedroom, searching through shopping bags for the black shirt he’d bought that was actually his own size, one he wouldn’t have to pin, and shrugged it on quickly. He found his jeans halfway across the room and hastily pulled them on, grabbing a belt from the counter - it was Gucci, definitely Jim’s, but he wasn’t in the mindset to care - and then grabbed a ball of socks from the drawer.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Jim asked with a laugh, standing in the bedroom doorway. 

“I was supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago.” He said breathlessly. “The tube’s a fucking bitch to get into Soho at this time.”

He tried to dash past Jim, but he caught him around the waist, pulling him back into his chest. “Do I not even get a kiss goodbye?”

“Jim, I’m late!” Freddie said exasperatedly, though he was laughing.

“So? You’re going to be late, whether it’s by fifteen minutes or half an hour, so you can afford to spend a minute more with me.” He smirked and kissed Freddie softly, slowly, indulgently, until a small hand pushed at his chest with breathless laughter.

“That is not how it works in the real world, you privileged twat.” Freddie rolled his eyes and wriggled out of his grip, grabbing a pair of trainers by the door. “Matt’ll fucking fire me if I turn up late.”

“Send him in my direction if you have any trouble.” He said seriously.

“Darling, I love you so much, but I’m not going to hold down any job for long if I’m a terrible worker and you pay them off.” Freddie pulled his shoes on quickly and stole a jacket of Jim’s.

“You don’t even need the job.” He pointed out, handing Freddie the pink lip gloss he always took to work.

“Pride. I’d like to at least pay my way fractionally.” Freddie rolled his eyes and leaned up to kiss him quickly. “I love you. I’ll see you later.”

“I’m going out with a couple of friends, so I might see you, depending on where we end up.” He chuckled. “Either way, I’ll probably be around when you finish. What time is it?”

“I finish early. I’m finishing at one, although I might end up going until two if we’re as horrendously understaffed as we have been recently.” Freddie smiled. “In that case, I’ll meet you by the back entrance.”

“Sounds wonderful. Love you.” He murmured, kissing him once more before he finally let him go. “I’ll see you later!”

* * *

“What about that bar you always go to?” Jamie said, rolling his eyes. “You always go there, but you never take anyone with you.”

“That’s because it’s fucking sleazy.” Jim grinned and threw his cigarette end on the floor, crushing it under his boot. “Older men and younger guys, you know what I mean.”

“Oh, go on, we all have to get drunk and hit on people twenty years older than us sometimes.” Elijah grinned and rubbed his gloved hands together. “We’re all men into men here, there’s nowhere you could take us that would shock us.”

“I beg to differ.” He smirked. “The place is actually just over the road from here.”

“Oh, it’s in Soho, how dodgy can it be?” Jamie insisted. “Come on, take us there.”

He supposed, upon first glance, that the bar looked normal to the outside eye; clusters of chairs, barstools, comfortable sofas in the corners, a long bar running one wall where the light glittered through glasses. Upon first glance, it seemed as though he was being naïve, and he heard a scoff from Jamie as they descended the stairs-

And then they saw the bartenders.

One of the others was leaned over the bar, deeply engrossed in conversation, pads of his fingers resting on the lips of a patron only centimetres away; another was dancing to the music as he poured a line of double shot vodka glasses-

But Freddie’s energy drew their attention from all the way across the room.

_ “I don’t think you’re doing them properly.” A man insisted, pushing the shot glass closer to Freddie; it was a quick way to earn tips, he knew, drinking with men who wanted a challenge. _

_ “I’m not doing them properly?” He pouted a little and rested a vodka bottle on the bar. “Why don’t you pour them then, darling?” _

_ “Deal.” He said, pouring the five shots that Freddie lined up; he did one of them himself and then spat it out, shaking his head. “Christ, that’s vile!” _

_ “It’s cheap.” Freddie winked, adding a fifth shot for himself: he knocked them back as quickly as he could, wrinkling his nose at the taste. _

_ He’d taught Jim the trick one evening when they’d been too awake to even think about sleeping: they kept a bottle under the bar, water brined and spiced to kick like vodka without the alcohol. It was foul, and they had to learn to deal with the taste, but it got them the money from doing shots with their patrons without risking getting drunk. _

_ Freddie winked at the money thrown down on the bar and pocketed it, leaning in close to listen to his next customer. “What can I do for you, darling?” He asked leisurely. _

_ “I want a drink that tastes like you.” He slurred - Freddie could only imagine how much money the guy had lost to the bar already that night - and reached forward to run his fingers through Freddie’s short hair. “I love this.” _

_ “I know, darling, isn’t it an improvement?” Freddie grinned and stood up. “I tell you what I taste like, darling, raspberries.” _

_ “Oh, perfect.” He groaned. _

_ “You can make one for me.” The next guy in line said quickly. _

_ “You don’t even know what I’m making!” Freddie chastised playfully, though he took another glass off the shelf all the same. He poured deftly, experienced by now, and then served the drinks over crushed ice, placing them down in front of the men. “Gentlemen, raspberry amaretto sours.” _

_ The first man placed thirty pounds on the bench, but the second threw down two fifties with a smirk. “Oh, darling-” Freddie sighed happily; he leaned across the bench and pecked his cheek with a wink. “I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” _

_ “Depends on how desperate you are.” He smirked. _

_ Freddie gasped, mock-offended, and rested his hand over his heart. “Not desperate enough, darling.” He replied with a laugh, moving onto the next customer. _

“Choose your bartender.” Jim hung up his jacket and grabbed his wallet. “And get ready to pay.”

“Christ.” Jamie whispered. “Can we go for the blonde?”

“Bleach?” Jim asked. “Or natural?”

“No, no, bleach. The guy with the short hair.” He said quickly. “Is he wearing lipstick?”

“Lip gloss.” Elijah corrected mindlessly. “It’s too shiny. Looks sticky.”

“It’s not.” Jim commented immediately, though his voice was too quiet to be heard over the racket of the bar. “Come on, then.”

They made their way over to the bar, and it wasn’t long until Freddie clocked them; he smirked into his glass as he swallowed down his water quickly, just knowing that Jim would be ready to make a fuss of him. 

He impatiently tapped his fingers on the bar, waiting for Freddie to get through the three customers ahead of them; when their eyes finally met, Freddie stayed quiet for a moment under the intensity of his gaze. “What can I get for the gentlemen of the evening?” He asked, smile wicked, as he leaned on the bar again. “I can only assume a whiskey on the rocks for you, darling?”

Jim’s smile told him that he’d passed the test. “You know it, doll.”

“What do you even sell?” Jamie asked, looking at all the bottles behind the bar.

“Oh, everything in your wildest dreams!” Freddie winked at him. “I can do cocktails, spirits, wines, beers, anything at all.”

“What’s your favourite?” Elijah asked, transfixed by the glint in Freddie’s eyes, the sultry slow blink as he centred in on him as though he was the most important man in the world. 

“I’ll drink anything.” He replied, taking a whiskey bottle down off the shelf for Jim’s drink, grinning to himself. “But I have an awfully sweet tooth, darling, and so you’ll catch me drinking cocktails whenever I can.”

“Why don’t you have a drink with us?” Jim suggested, smirking.

Freddie rolled his eyes. “I’m not allowed to, lovely, you know the rules.”

“We’ll put more money behind the bar.” Elijah said immediately. “Come on, pretty boy, come and sit with us.”

“I can make more in ten minutes than you could possibly put behind the bar.” Freddie grinned and pushed the drink over to Jim. “How much are you paying for this one, darling?”

Jim pulled a wedge of notes from his wallet and placed them down on the table; Freddie leaned across the bar and kissed him, in full view of everyone, and then winked at him. “Aren’t you always the most generous?”

Elijah and Jamie stared at them as Freddie took his lip gloss from his pocket and slicked up his lips, though his cheeks were pinkened; they almost winced at the intense look in his eyes as he focused on them. “So, gentlemen, what are we ordering?”

* * *

“As if he just kissed you.” Jamie grabbed Jim’s shoulder as they sat down on one of the sofas in the corner. “Jim, what the fuck?”

He smirked and shrugged. “I told you the place was sleazy.”

“Christ.” He landed heavily next to him. “What’s his name?”

“Freddie.” Jim said, and finally he broke down laughing. “God, guys, I’m fucking with you. That’s my boyfriend.”

“You’re fucking joking!” Elijah leaned in quickly. “What the fuck?”

“You fucking pulled.” Jamie laughed loudly. “How the hell did you pull him? He’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“Right place, right time.” He shrugged. “He doesn’t know I own this place, but I got Matt to give him the job, and business has boomed since.”

“I doubt he makes a bad lover, either.” Jamie sighed wistfully, looking over at him. “I didn’t know you’d branched out into Soho.”

“All the clubs down in St. James’s are awfully tame, darling, and you make better money in sleaze on a Friday and Saturday. Guys come here to squander a week’s wages.” He grinned into his glass. “I do a pay-what-you-want system, and everyone overpays wonderfully.”

“You’re turning into a proper property tycoon.” Elijah chuckled. “And now you’ve got the boyfriend to match.”

“Oh, I feel as though I should be a drug lord, darling, I imagine it’s how they feel with their money. You just get to the point where you can throw it wherever you want, and you know you’ll never get to the bottom of it. He had a load of debt that I paid off for him, so he’s not burdened anymore, we bought a flat, and he’s got a fucking expensive taste when it comes to- well, everything, really.” He chuckled. “The difference is extortionate rents and investment banking are both legal.”

“Every year, the bonuses just get more ridiculous.” Jamie grinned. “Which, by the way, thank you for mine.”

“Hey, I’m allowed to have favourites.” He chuckled. “I don’t actually organise them, Dad does, but if I tell him people that I think should get one, he’ll take my word for it.”

“I don’t know how you get so rich being so nice.” Elijah admitted. “They always say that you can’t have both.”

“Oh, it’s bullshit. I just make people happy for a living.” He grinned and drained the last in his glass. “It pays as well as anything.”

He was surprised to suddenly see another tray of drinks landing in front of them, and his eyes widened further as Freddie landed himself in his lap. “Hello, darling.” He said sweetly, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“What are you doing here?” Jim asked, smoothing a hand down his side and settling it on his hip. 

“I think you boys are a little more drunk than you think you are. It’s eleven, I’m working until two, so I get a little break to do whatever I like with.” He grinned. “And you just so happen to be here.”

“What a coincidence.” Jim grinned and caught his lips in another kiss, feeling Freddie’s happy sigh against his lips. “Can I introduce you?”

“Of course!” Freddie smiled over at the men he was with. “Why don’t you introduce yourselves, too?”

“I’m Jamie.” He said quickly. “I work in the same department as Jim.”

“Do you find it as horrendously dull as he does?” Freddie teased.

“Freddie!” Jim laughed, swatting his ass. 

“Oh, it’s true!” Jamie agreed, immediately agreeing with Freddie to find his favour. “Sometimes we lock ourselves in the office just so we don’t have to deal with the other people we work for.”

“Is that your office that doesn’t have a lock?” Freddie smirked. “What about you, darling, who are you?”

“Elijah.” He answered immediately. “We co-own a couple of clubs in St. James’s.”

“Part of the rich boys’ club.” Freddie joked. “I never knew you owned any clubs, baby.”

“Guilty as charged.” Jim kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

“I’m Freddie Mercury, I’m twenty, and I’m the poor boy he fell in love with.” He smirked. “I work here, and I’m a singer, and I’m a general rascal to have around.”

“Oh, shush.” Jim pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m glad you came over to say hello.”

“So am I!” Freddie sang happily. “Very happy indeed, darling.”

* * *

“No puppy?” David commented, looking Jim up and down as he walked into the lounge. “Has he pissed on your carpets yet?”

“You know-” Jim threw his jacket down exasperatedly on the chair and turned to him. “I’m not going to hold my fucking tongue with you treating him like shit. I took him to go and see Mum, you know, and she was really happy to meet him, they got on wonderfully, and it was because she saw the best in him. She didn’t fucking ask him about his paycheck, she didn’t care about the fact that he’s different, she told him he looked wonderful and asked him where he got his damn lipstick from.”

“Oh, don’t start with how wonderful your mother is.” He replied tiredly.

“Fuck you!” Jim burst out. “Why can’t you just try and be happy for me? I’m actually really fucking happy for the first time in a long time, it’s the first time I’ve felt like somebody actually fucking loves me, and yet you choose to be fucking blind to it!”

“Don’t take up that tone with me.” He said, voice growing more grave. 

“If you fucking loved me, you’d be thrilled at the idea of me being so happy. You’d be thrilled that your son loves somebody so much that the idea of getting married makes him so damn happy, but you aren’t, because you’re blinded by money, it’s always money.” He crossed his arms. “Why does it even matter?”

“Because he can’t support you!” He finally burst out. “We’ve talked about this!”

“Why does he need to support me? I’ve got forty-two million in a bank account, and even if you stopped giving me money, I’ve got the rent of fourteen different clubs in central London coming to me each month. I don’t want to be supported or babied, I’m not a fucking child. I let myself be naïve when I was with Tom because I thought that’s all there was to the world, but it’s not true, there’s so much more.” He sighed. “I don’t care about money! If I got any more rich, I wouldn’t want to live differently to how I do now.”

He went quiet for a moment. “It’s so improper.” He said softly.

“God, who cares about being proper? It’s not the nineteen-forties anymore.” He said, though his voice softened a little. 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, propping his feet up on the table in front of him. “I’m scared of Freddie.” He admitted after a while. “He- he’s so different. Too different. Your mother’s fine with it because she’s different, too, and she knows what it’s like, but I- I’ve never been like that.”

“But you must’ve felt like that when you met Mum. She’s always been like that. Can’t you see that that’s what I see in Freddie?” He asked.

“I hadn’t thought of it like that.” He said quietly. “I was so certain you were going to marry Tom, and he was- God, he was safe, wasn’t he? I’d watched you grow up together, his father was rich, it was just easy.”

“I just want you to like Freddie.” He replied. “I just want to stop putting him down and try and see the best in him. I want to give him that ring, Dad, the one you thought I should give to Tom, because I love him. I love him, I love living with him, I love spending time with him. He’s so creative, and he’s so talented, and he’s so lovely, and I wish you would see that in him.”

“Can I meet his father?” He asked abruptly. “I’d like to get to know his family.”

“I’m sure you can.” Jim agreed. “But you have to promise to get on with them. They’re comfortable, but they’re not rich, and I’ll never forgive you if you take the piss out of them for it.”

“No, no, I promise.” He tried his best to smile. “Please, talk to Freddie about it.”

“Okay.” He agreed, smiling back at him. “But I’ll bring him for dinner first, and you have to prove yourself then.”

“Okay, deal.” He nodded. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all you first time commenters who commented yesterday: I love you! Stick around!
> 
> To everyone who is here every time with long comments: I adore you endlessly!


	19. Domesticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New faces in the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would people like this fic to be a little longer? I feel as though we've got a lot I'd like to cover before the epilogue (wedding especially!) and I don't want to rush it, but please let me know what you think!

Jim had never met somebody who slept as little as Freddie did; some nights, he’d be home at five or six from the bar, and he’d be awake again at seven to be with his lover in the morning; some nights, he claimed it was easier to just stay awake than to deal with having only an hour or two of sleep. It wasn’t as though he slept during the day, either, always having to dash out the doors for meetings that Jim couldn’t quite understand, finances and track listings and the incessant argument over the pace of drums.

He wondered why he never seemed to be tired.

He could’ve slept four hours in the last forty-eight, and he’d still be dancing around the kitchen while he washed the dishes, or slaving over the new piano in the lounge, or painting a new wall in the hallway to try and finish up the flat as soon as he could. He was either fully switched on, or entirely switched off; he was either awake, vibrant, bright, or fast asleep, cuddled up on one of the sofas.

He’d worked overtime in the bar for four nights in a row, coming home at six each morning, and Jim could see that it was starting to wear out even Freddie. It felt as though his body was too little to contain every project and idea he had, as though he had to act on them immediately so that he didn’t lose them- he was almost manic, trying to do so much in so little time, everything overlapping. 

Which was exactly why Jim had wrestled him into a cuddle on the sofa.

It had worked beautifully, forcing Freddie to relax just for a minute, and within five minutes he’d been fast asleep against Jim’s chest- within five minutes, tired limbs had grown heavy, eyelids had fallen shut, and Freddie’s breath timed to the gentle pace of Jim’s fingers through his hair. Jim smiled as he helped him into a more comfortable position, his head supported by a cushion on the arm of the sofa, his body slung haphazardly over his lap; he traced his fingers up and down his lover’s side, indulging in the feeling of soft skin, so smooth under his fingertips.

Freddie owned any number of beautiful gowns, kimonos, robes, and yet he often wore Jim’s old t-shirts around the flat, the ones with faded prints, the ones that had gone soft from years of being worn as loungewear. He wore the ones that were the biggest, the ones that Jim had bought oversized for the sake of comfort, because he liked the way they draped past his hips; he would dance around the house in just a t-shirt and underwear, knowing his lover never minded what he wore.

Jim reached for a permanent marker off of the side table and opened it with his teeth, his other hand trapped under Freddie’s shoulder - Freddie had left all sorts of things around the flat, bottles of turpentine, old art paint brushes, even a paint tray that he’d nearly stepped in at three o’clock in the morning, while he’d been working hard to redecorate - and smiled wickedly as he pulled up the back of his shirt slightly.

He drew a love heart on the curve of his ass, grinning to himself at how well the black stood out against his skin, and then drew another on his other cheek; he found himself mindlessly drawing them again and again, covering all the bare skin he could get his hands on, all the way down over the tops of his thighs. When he was satisfied, he smoothed Freddie’s t-shirt back down, and drew one last heart on the back of his neck - once upon a time, his hair would’ve covered it, but his new short hair made it all too easy to be seen.

He placed the marker down on the table and went back to stroking at his side, grinning at the sight of the hearts peeking out from under the bottom of his shirt. It was a long while before Freddie woke, and Jim was finally happy to see him look a little more rested as he groaned and rubbed his eyes.

“Good evening, my beautiful boy.” Jim smiled as he sat up and wrapped his arms around Jim’s body, resting his cheek against his chest. “Nice nap?”

Freddie yawned and nodded, snuggling up as close as he could to him. “Didn’t realise how tired I was.” He laughed softly.

“I feel as though you could do with an actual night’s sleep tonight, sweetheart.” Jim kissed the top of his head mindlessly. “You haven’t slept much recently.”

“Never do.” Freddie yawned again and then stretched his arms up overhead. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Oh, I definitely am. It’s only a couple of hours, and you know I like to snuggle you whenever I can.” He said playfully. “How about it?”

“Okay.” He agreed with a sleepy smile. “I think I need a shower first, though. I got all sweaty while I was decorating.”

“Would you like me to join you?” He asked, brushing his fingers through Freddie’s knotty hair. “I’ll do your hair for you.”

“Deal. I just need the bathroom first, so you’ll have to hang fire a minute or two.” Freddie stood up slowly and stretched out again: as he did so, his shirt rode up, and Jim grinned at the sight of his butt covered in hearts.

“No problem, sweetheart, just shout when I can come in.” He said, finally dragging his eyes up to meet Freddie’s face again.

Freddie smiled and ran a hand through his hair as he wandered into the bathroom, closing the door behind him; he heard the sound of the shower running, getting warm, and then Freddie’s screech. “Jim!” He shouted, opening the door quickly and storming back into the lounge. “What the hell have you done to me?”

Jim could barely contain his laughter at Freddie Mercury, stood in nothing but a thong in their lounge, covered in love hearts. “What is it, sweetness?” He asked, trying not to grin.

Freddie turned around and showed him the hearts all over his skin. “Do you have any idea how long this is going to take to scrub off?”

“Oh, that thing?” Jim joked and stood up, wrapping his arms around him from behind; Freddie shivered at how vulnerable he suddenly felt, how exposed, practically naked while his lover stood behind him in suit trousers and a shirt, and bit his lip. “Why do you have to scrub it off?”

“I- well-” He stammered, cheeks flushing, and he scowled when Jim laughed. “Oh, you bastard!”

“I think it suits you!” Jim pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “I, for one, think you should get it tattooed.”

Freddie rolled his eyes but started to smile, turning around and starting to work his fingers through the buttons of Jim’s shirt, opening it steadily, as though he were opening a present. “How long have I had it for?”

“Only about half an hour.” He chuckled. “Why, is someone else going to see your ass soon?”

“Who knows?” Freddie winked, pushing Jim’s shirt off of his shoulders and then leaning up to kiss him softly. “I’m a very desirable man, you know.”

“I think you’re even more desirable with hearts on your butt. Hey, I could’ve drawn dicks, at least I had some sense.” He grinned.

“God, you’re the worst.” Freddie laughed and unbuttoned and unzipped Jim’s trousers as they made their way into the bathroom.

“You don’t mean that, baby.” He insisted, gently pushing Freddie against the wall to kiss him and kicking the bathroom door shut.

“Don’t I?” Freddie countered, though he sounded a little breathless from the kisses; he kicked off his underwear and stepped into the shower, letting the water run in rivulets over tight muscles. “Maybe I’ll have this all to myself, instead.”

“You’d miss me if I wasn’t here.” Jim quickly followed him in and wound his arms back around him, thrilled at how easy he was to hold, how good he felt in his arms. “Who else could satisfy your voracious appetite for sex?”

Freddie softened a little and turned around to kiss him. “You’re more than a cock to me, you know?” He said quietly; Jim was taken aback by the sudden sweetness of his words. “There are lots of things I’d miss about you before I missed your cock. I- I know that’s how people see me, as a bit of a whore, and I don’t mind that, not at all, it’s true. But I do genuinely value you beyond your cock and your wallet.” Freddie smoothed his hands over Jim’s shoulders.

“Oh, baby-” He softened immediately, capturing Freddie’s lips in a kiss. “I was only playing.”

“I know, I know, I just want you to know that I love you for more than your cock.” He said softly. “It’s just one hell of an added bonus.”

Jim chuckled against his lips and kissed him once again. “God, you’re so sweet on the inside, aren’t you?”

“I’m like a candy with sour sugar.” Freddie joked and stood on his toes to steal one last kiss, before he turned around to retrieve his bottle of shampoo from the side. “I need to use the purple one to keep this bright.”

“Bleached hair is an awful lot of work.” Jim took the bottle from him before he could pour it and poured it into his own palm, before he started to wash Freddie’s hair.

“You don’t have to do this if it’s too much effort.” Freddie protested, a little shy.

“You know, for all those boyfriends you had in your time, I don’t think a single one of them treated you properly.” Jim commented, massaging through his hair down to his scalp. “It’s not too much effort. I love you, and I love looking after you.”

“Says the guy that had never shared a shower with someone before you met me.” Freddie smiled and rested a hand on Jim’s chest, unashamedly feeling the taut muscles beneath his skin. 

“Hey, I may not have had the chance to do it, but I know how to treat a man right. Now I get to experiment with all those ways that I thought about for years.” Jim grinned, running his fingers through the strands of Freddie’s short hair. “I’m naïve, really, but you haven’t seemed to mind so far.”

“You don’t act like you’re too naïve.” Freddie chuckled.

“Oh, I feel it.” Jim laughed and kissed the end of his nose as he ran his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “My first mission is to get you to sleep for more than an hour a night.”

“I sleep longer when you get me all snuggly.” Freddie looked up at him from under his lashes, and then let his eyes close happily.

“Is that a hint?” Jim wound his arms around him suddenly, obsessed with the feeling of their skin pressed so close, so warm. Freddie melted into the hug, pressing his cheek to Jim’s collarbone with a soft sigh of happiness.

“It’s definitely a hint.” He murmured, arms wrapping around Jim’s waist. “I love you.”

Jim chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too, baby. You know, I think I love snugglebug Freddie even more than I love sexy siren Freddie.”

“They’re the same person.” Freddie laughed into his skin. “I’m whatever people project onto me.”

“You know, sometimes I think of all the men you’ve spent your nights with, and I wonder why I’m the one you chose to settle down with.” He ran his fingers down Freddie’s back and smiled to himself. “Feel like I won a gold medal in a competition I didn’t realise I was in.”

“God, I love you.” Freddie laughed. “You fought me, darling, and you won me. You took me on at my own game, and you were fucking good at it. Most men wouldn’t dare.”

“I never even realised I was playing your game.” He chuckled. 

“I love you because you gave me no choice not to.” Freddie cupped his cheek with wet fingers and smiled up at him. “I couldn’t find your faults. I still haven’t fucking found them.” He laughed.

“Says you.” Jim kissed the end of his nose and reached over him for his body wash. “People think you’re not even human.”

“I don’t know when that started!” Freddie laughed as hands ran down his front, carefully washing away the paint from his skin. “People have always said that. My grandma used to call me a little angel, and people have always referred to me as an angel ever since. Then to others, I’ve been the devil.” He shook his head with a grin. “I fucking love the image, don’t get me wrong, but I’m just Freddie.”

“You seem to be totally unbothered by things that affect the rest of us. You’re the same man even if you don’t sleep or eat for a week, which most people can’t boast.” Jim chuckled.

“Oh, that’s utter shit!” Freddie rolled his eyes. “That’s practice from years of self neglect, it’s not something to be admired. I wish I was better at looking after myself, I think it’s much better if I want to ever class as an adult.”

“I’m going to help you with that.” Jim said resolutely, reaching over to shut off the water when Freddie was rinsed through.

Big brown eyes met his and he smiled involuntarily at the concern behind them. “Don’t you need to wash your hair?” Freddie asked softly.

“I had a shower before I went to work this morning, darling, I just wanted the excuse to look after you.” Jim chuckled as he stepped down from the shower and wound a towel around his waist.

Freddie blushed and laughed with delight, following him quickly. “Won’t you choose something for me to wear?” He asked hopefully. “You know I love your choices.”

“Oh, you’re keeping the thong, I want to see your butt all night.” He joked, handing Freddie a towel before they wandered into the dressing room. “But you own things so much nicer than my old t-shirts. I think I’m going to put you in that little lace and silk gown I bought you.” He took it off the hanger and handed it over. 

Freddie grinned and roughly towelled off his torso and legs before he got dressed in front of his lover, no shame in his body. “Is that all?” He asked coyly.

“Why, are you shy?” He teased, grabbing himself a pair of sweatpants that he slung low on his hips.

“Haven’t been yet, darling, have I?” Freddie teased, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and then winking as he folded up their towels to go back in the bathroom. “Oh, you’ll make a housewife of me yet.”

“I’d much rather have a brilliant musician of a husband.” Jim wound his arms around him and picked him up, making him squeal. “Speaking of which, how were your meetings?”

“The copious amounts of money on my AmEx made EMI reconsider, darling, and we’re pitching a new album to them next week.” Freddie smiled smugly. “You rich bastards really do have it easy, don’t you?”

“You’re one of us now.” Jim chuckled, carrying him into the lounge and laying him down on one of the sofas. “The fact that we have the kind of house where I can just carry you around fucking thrills me.”

Freddie smiled languidly and laid out over the sofa, yawning sweetly. “I bet the fact that it’s your turn to cook doesn’t.”

“No, it does!” He grinned. “I’ve been looking at recipes, and I think I might be alright at it.”

“I hope for both of our sakes that you are.” Freddie laughed and stood up, running his fingers across the Bechstein. “Sometimes I can’t believe I get to write on this beauty. I want to get this song finished before we pitch next week, because I think it’ll carry the whole album.”

“Play it for me.” Jim said immediately, sitting down in the armchair beside the piano. “I’d love to hear it.”

“Oh, you heard it in its early days! It was called Rhapsody back then, does that name ring a bell?” He asked, smiling wide.

“That was the first one you played me in my bedroom.” He grinned. “I never knew you were still playing that one.”

“It might be my favourite one I’ve ever written. It’s called Bohemian Rhapsody these days.” He laughed happily and sat at the piano stool. “I honestly can’t believe you remember me playing that. Most people aren’t interested, they all bleed together in their minds.”

“No, no, I remember it! You showed me how to do the crossover so that I could play it too.” He grinned and propped his feet up on Freddie’s thighs. “Play it for me, baby, please?”

“Oh, as if you have to ask!” Freddie lay his fingers down on the keys, and he began to play.

* * *

He lay on his stomach on the floor of the lounge, legs bent at the knee, ankles crossed; evening sunshine splashed through the window and he lounged in it lazily, allowing it to caress the smooth skin on his legs, allowing it to tease the skin freshly marked from the morning before. He closed his eyes, enjoying the soft, slick sound of his paintbrush as he mixed his colours into a sweet, soft pink, ready to fill in the backdrop of his new album cover - it looked perfect, he thought to himself with a happy smile, and he was ready to pitch it along with his catalogue of songs. 

He had always assumed he would hate a quiet house, having been so used to having his family around, or else having a whole spiral of beautiful men, one after another, night after night. And yet, he found such peace in the house, in the sunshine or the rain against the windows, in the hum of the heaters as they warmed the floor beneath his feet: he found peace as he stood over the stove, making his mother’s masala chai, the smell of paint and the gentle sound of a record flowing over him like warm water. He found peace in watching the clock and knowing he was getting closer to being loved, knowing he was soon to be swept up in his lover’s arms-

He looked up quickly when the lock of the door clicked, and he flew straight into Jim’s arms.

“Oh, baby!” Jim laughed, dropping his briefcase and hugging him tight. “This is a lovely hello!”

“I’ve been waiting for you to get home!” Freddie said excitedly. “I don’t even know why, I just wanted to see you!”

Jim chuckled and leaned down to kiss him softly. “You’ve got to let me go, baby, I’ve bought you a present and it’s out in the car.”

“You always buy me presents.” Freddie grinned and kissed his cheek. “What is it today, darling? A new lipstick?”

“Oh, something far better than that! It’s going to put a smile on your face, I promise.” He wriggled out of Freddie’s arms and jogged down the stairs; Freddie stood in the doorway and listened to his footsteps, chuckling to himself. Jim was walking far more carefully when he reappeared, holding a cardboard box, which he handed over slowly. “Make sure you put your hand on the bottom.”

“Okay?” Freddie laughed, though his eyebrows shot up when he felt the box move. “Jim, what the hell?”

He kicked the door shut and grinned. “Open it, open it, come on!”   
  


“Alright!” Freddie grinned and put the box on the floor, carefully opening it up from the top.

Jim swore his screams could be heard miles away.

“Oh my fucking God!” He shouted, reaching into the box and pulling out a cat, a cat so familiar, a cat who started to purr as soon as he picked her up. “Oh my God, Jim- I can’t- I can’t believe it!”

“If you remember, I said I’d find them for you.” Jim grinned. 

“Delilah.” Freddie whispered, resting his cheek against the cat’s head, and laughing through his tears. “Oh, my baby!”

“Delilah.” Jim echoed. “That’s a beautiful name, Freddie.”

“She’s my little baby.” Freddie wiped his eyes and sat cross legged, finally placing the cat on the floor; he laughed again when she nuzzled at his hand, purring loudly. “Jim, I can’t believe it!”

“She was still in the shelter where you put her, but-” Jim reached into the box and placed a kitten on Freddie’s knee. “She’s also got some new friends.”

“I can’t believe it.” Freddie laughed, wiping his eyes again, and then he picked up the little kitten and kissed its soft head. “I feel like I’ve just been reunited with my family.”

Jim laughed and wound an arm around his waist, sitting beside him. “Our family now.” He said, letting Delilah sniff at his hand. “What shall we call the kittens?”

“There’s more?” Freddie’s eyes widened.

“Only one, but she’s asleep in the box and I don’t want to wake her.” He kissed Freddie’s cheek softly. “A boy and a girl.”

“Romeo.” He smiled at the kitten, squealing when it bit playfully at his hand. “God, I forgot what kittens are like!”

“Playful little things.” Jim grinned as the kitten climbed on him and up his shoulder. “Oh, hello!”

“What should I call the little girl?” Freddie asked contemplatively, smiling when Delilah lay down with her head on his foot. “Do you like Dorothy?”

“Can I call her Dotty for short?” He questioned hopefully.

“Of course.” Freddie kissed him softly. “Jim, this is the best gift ever!”

“I’m working on finding the others, too. It’s Tiffany, Tom, Jerry, and Goliath, isn’t it?” He checked. “You cried about them when you were drunk, once.”

Freddie laughed, cheeks turning red, and picked up Delilah to cuddle her again. “Are you really going to find them all?”

“Darling, I once tried to sneak a kitten into the house back home because I wanted one so badly. They’re just so cuddly.” He kissed Romeo, who was sat on his shoulder. “And Delilah clearly loves you.”

  
  
“She was my best friend.” Freddie petted her idly and kissed Jim’s lips softly. “Thank you, darling.”

“It’s no trouble, darling, honestly. They get a good home, you get a smile on your face, and I get a home full of very happy babies. I think it works out wonderfully.”

“I love you.” Freddie whispered, cupping his cheek and kissing him again, kneeling up to show him just how much it meant to him. “I love you so much, fuck.”

“I love you too, sweetness.” Jim smiled. “Thank you for making me so happy.”

“Thank you for changing my life.” Freddie murmured.

“Oh, I didn’t.” Jim grinned. “That was all you, darling, I just helped along the way.”


	20. Bombshell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other side of Jim's world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun little chapter before the business starts! Lots of gratuitous and graphic recreational drug use, beware!

He’d assuaged any doubts with a wry smile, and pressed a kiss to his lover’s cheek; he’d promised Freddie that he’d fit in just perfectly with the young women in the too-tight and too-short dresses, with the men with cherry red lips and transparent t-shirts. Wearing a claret-red shirt of Jim’s, unbuttoned and loose around his shoulders, and those jeans that hugged every curve of his legs, he looked good enough to eat- his lips glowed the same hue as his shirt, making him seem as though he was shining in the low light.

Freddie admired the way Jim’s muscles pressed taut to the white shirt he wore, hidden partially by the cut of his suit jacket; he wore the belt that Freddie had learned to undo even when he was drunk, and Freddie could barely contain his excitement at the prospect. He had stolen kisses in the taxi on the way there, pressing his hands over anything he could reach; they’d shared a bottle of wine while they’d dressed, and he was already feeling heady with the thrill of the alcohol. 

And now, pressed against the wall in a Chelsea mansion he’d never stepped foot in before: he felt overwhelmed with the excitement.

“This is fucking incredible.” Freddie laughed as Jim kissed down his neck, locking his fists in his shirt. “Six men have called me beautiful.”

  
  
“Everyone gets a little gay after midnight.” He grinned and captured his lips again. “I’m fucking addicted to introducing you to people.” 

Freddie grinned and wound his arms around Jim’s neck. “I like the way everyone looks shocked when they see me.”

“You’re my little blonde bombshell.” Jim smirked and pulled back a little to look him over, wiping lipstick from under his mouth. “White hair and red lips looks good on you.”

“It’s a classic.” He let himself be looked over, proudly standing under his lover’s gaze. “Who’s next on the list?”

“It depends on the next person we bump into.” He looked around quickly when a hand fell on his shoulder and grinned. “One second, baby.”

Freddie watched as his lover left the room and shrugged, tipping the rest of his drink down his throat and then looking around the room. He caught the eyes of a man sprawled out on the sofa and smiled wickedly - he retrieved another glass of something sweet from the table and then landed himself beside him. “Darling, I’m bored.” He pouted, and swung his legs into the man’s lap. “Play with me?”

He knew he could look wickedly desirable whenever he wanted to; he knew that the pout of his reddened lips looked irresistible to the right man. “A shot, my darling?” He offered, holding out a glass of something that smelled like acid: Freddie smiled, coy and yet confident, and took it easily.

“Oh, I’ll drink anything.” Freddie smirked, shotting it quickly; he wiped the residue from his lips, making sure he had the eyes of- it had become a group, now, all watching him like predator and prey.

He wondered whether they recognised that he was the predator.

“Who are you with, doll?” He asked, leaning closer. “Who invited you?”

“Jim Hutton. He’s my fiancé.” He said proudly, almost wishing he had a ring to show off. “And he thought I might make things a little more interesting.”

“And how have you found it, baby?” He asked, reaching forward and thumbing lightly at his lower lip. Freddie allowed it, tilting his head up just a little so that his thumb dragged down and onto his chin, a light trail of lipstick following it downwards. “Did he buy you this colour?”

“Doesn’t he have the most excellent taste?” Freddie murmured in response, blinking slowly, heavily, dangerously. “I taste like cherries.”

The man groaned, low and at the back of his throat. “How loyal would you say that you are, sweetheart?”

“Too loyal.” He sighed dramatically, pouting his lower lip; he looked up when an arm wrapped around his neck from behind. Jim thought he looked poisonous sat there, looking oh-so-innocent as he glanced up from under his eyelashes, his lipstick smudged, looking ruffled and debauched. “And here’s the devil I speak of.”

“You look like you’ve been having a little too much fun, baby.” Jim leaned down to kiss him, and Freddie submitted to it easily. “Playing with the big boys?”

“I can hold my own.” Freddie grinned against his lips, standing up quickly when one hand clasped in his with a sharp, insistent tug. “Where are you taking me now, darling?”

Jim tugged him into the bathroom and locked the door behind them, before he produced the tiniest bag in the palm of his hand. “You said you missed it.”

“It’s like coming home.” Freddie replied, snatching it eagerly. “Oh, you handsome bastard, I love you.”

Jim laughed and dug for his wallet. “No notes, though.”

“Give me your card.” Freddie demanded immediately, taking it quickly between his fingers. “You can’t tell me you’ve never snorted off the corner of your card.”

“Can’t say it’s a regular habit of mine.” Jim arched an eyebrow, though he was grinning.

“Pussy.” Freddie poured the powder out onto the lid of the toilet and knelt down beside it, cutting it carefully and then gathering what he could on the corner of the card. “I hope you’re not expecting me to do this by myself.”

Jim grinned and knelt beside him, shaking his head. “After I’ve just spent the best part of two hundred quid on it? Definitely not.”

Freddie held the card out to him with a smirk. “Here I was, thinking you were so innocent.”

“Tom was fucking boring, darling, I had to pass the time somehow.” He took a deep breath before he lifted the card up, pinching one nostril and snorting as much as he could.

“Christ, how did I get so lucky to find you?” Freddie laughed, drunk on expensive liquor, and took the card as soon as it was handed to him; his hands shook as he recut it for himself, and then lifted the card.

His eyes opened at the feeling of lips against his own, though he couldn’t be sure if he’d sat there for seconds, minutes, or hours; he moaned against Jim’s lips and wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him closer and closer until he knelt between Freddie’s spread legs. “Fuck, I need your dealer.” Freddie laughed, eyes closing again against the onslaught of euphoria, and bit his lip as Jim kissed down his neck.

* * *

Jim wasn’t sure how much they’d drank while they’d been high, but he knew from experience that Freddie was terrible at drinking in moderation when it was all they were doing, and he was certainly more drunk than Jim had ever seen him before.

He collapsed in his lover’s lap, pink in the face from the strength of his laughter, and Jim took a moment to survey exactly what he was wearing: he had lost his shirt, and instead had the expensive Rolex watches of willing gentlemen wrapped around his biceps, his forearms, and an expensive diamond bracelet dangling precariously on his wrist. His lipstick had been reapplied meticulously - by someone else, Jim could only assume, as his hands were shaking far too badly to get such neat lines - and as he lay backwards, happy, lazy, Jim got a glance of his feet.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Jim asked with a laugh. “Are they stilettos?”

“Oh, aren’t they beautiful?” Freddie sang, holding his legs out proudly for his lover to survey the shoes. “I lost a bet, darling, but I think I won. I had to swap those old pieces of shit for Louboutins.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Can you even walk in them?”

“No!” He shouted, delighted. “But beautiful men carry me, darling, that’s the point!”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Jim murmured affectionately, leaning in to kiss him; Freddie cupped his cheeks as he kissed back, and Jim could feel the press of rings against his skin. “And who’s given you so much jewellery?”

“I think I’m engaged to-” Freddie paused to count the rings, and Jim could barely contain a smirk at how badly he messed up the numbers. “This many people! But they all know you’re my husband really.”

Freddie looked so in love that Jim almost couldn’t contain himself. “We’re not married.” Jim grinned, thumbing his cheek gently. “Who did your lipstick?”

“Well, you need to marry me a little sooner, then, because all these people think we’re married now.” Freddie rolled his eyes as if the answer was all too easy. “You did, don’t be silly?”

“I did?” He replied, aghast. “When?”

“After I earned five hundred quid and another bag of coke for kissing someone.” Freddie smirked and took the notes out of his back pocket. 

Jim’s eyes darkened a little, and Freddie’s heart leapt with the thrill of knowing he’d angered his lover. “I’ll kill him.”

“Oh, don’t kill him!” He simpered playfully, winding both arms around Jim’s neck. “It was an awfully good kiss, darling, it’d be a shame to stop there.”

The slap that landed on his ass made Freddie squeal with laughter. “Tart.” Jim replied, though he was grinning, not serious.

“I seem to have to go through this an awful lot.” Freddie tipped his head back, sighing dramatically. “I’m not a tart, darling, though I cross the line at free coke.”

“So it was a business transaction?” Jim smirked.

“Exactly!” Freddie plucked a drink out of the hand of the man that passed him and swallowed it down before any protests could be made. “See, I’m an investment.”

“And what would I be investing in, baby?” Jim asked, leaning in to kiss him again; Freddie indulged him, long and lazy, until they had to break apart to breathe.

“Notoriety.” He winked, the same words he’d spoken so long ago. 

“I wish I’d told my father you were an investment all those weeks ago.” Jim rolled his eyes playfully.

“Oh, don’t mention him!” Freddie implored, wide-eyed. “Tell me you love me, baby, say it.”

“You’ll never get tired of hearing it?” Jim teased. “I don’t want to say it too much.”

“Never!” Freddie promised. “Say it, say it, say it, say-”

“I love you.” Jim pulled him closer until he straddled his hips, and tucked his hair from his face, surprisingly gentle and tender. “I love you, you debauched bastard.”

Freddie laughed, delighted. “It earned me free coke, five hundred quid and a pair of Louboutins, darling. Debauchery is a fine business if you know where to look.”

* * *

Freddie yawned as he wandered into the kitchen long after midday, nursing a hangover and a headache bigger than the size of his ego; he smiled sleepily at the sight of Jim making coffee in his underwear and walked over to him, winding his arms around him from behind.

Jim turned around immediately and wrapped both arms around him, enjoying the moment of quiet they shared as they stood there, so innocent and yet so intimate. He traced his fingers back and forth across Freddie’s spine, peaceful and happy, and pressed a kiss to his forehead before he spoke. “Would you like a coffee?”

“God, I’d fucking love one.” He murmured, letting his head drop onto Jim’s shoulder as he watched him stir it with one hand. “I’ve got one bitch of a hangover.”

Jim chuckled. “I’m not surprised. You snorted the best part of a bag of coke and fuck knows how much you drank, but you couldn’t get yourself into the taxi home.”

Freddie groaned and laughed in the same breath, eyes closing. “It was fucking amazing, I remember that.”

“You didn’t remember that you were supposed to be working a lunchtime shift at the bar to cover some expensive business meeting, though.” He teased. “I told Matt you had the flu.”

“You’ve always got my back, haven’t you?” Freddie laughed and took his mug as soon as Jim could pour it, scalding his tongue as he swallowed eagerly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. I know you’ve got that big meeting coming up later, and I figured you wouldn’t want to be disturbed.” He smiled and kissed him softly. “I had lots of fun with you.”

“I can’t believe people just casually sell coke at those things.” Freddie laughed softly and sat up on the kitchen counter. “Normally it’s always a friend of a friend of a friend, not somebody who just walks right up to you with it all neat and tidy in little bags.”

“We’re lonely people who don’t know how to socialise. Coke makes us feel normal, it’s the poison of choice.” He chuckled and stood opposite Freddie, swallowing some of his own coffee. “Or at least, that’s how it was until I met you.”

Freddie’s smile seemed so sweet, so shy, and so out-of-place. “I didn’t expect you to be so willing for me to do it.”

“You said you liked it.” He shrugged.

“Oh, I do, and I like it even more with you. It’s strangely gratifying to have somebody to return to, night after night.” He smiled as he jumped down and wandered over to the piano. “I’m pitching the album at five. I might need some just to buck my confidence up.”

“You don’t need any powdered confidence.” Jim kissed the top of his head as he followed him. “You’ve got a fucking amazing album in your hands.”

Freddie’s smile was brighter as he turned to look at him. “Do you really think?”

“I know so, baby, I promise.” He grinned. “You’ll knock them dead.”

  
  


_I’m on top of the world!_

_You’re drunk, Freddie._

_Nothing has ever been better than this!_


	21. Six Bloody Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't all quite go to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys seem to be really enjoying the debauchery/domestic split - I'm so glad that's so popular!

“Fucking-” Freddie’s hand slammed down on the counter, and he watched with malice as an expensive vase toppled and fell; the shock of it reverberated through his nerves, only increasing his anger. “Fucking bastard, what a fucking cunt.”

“Freddie-” Brian rested his hand on Freddie’s shoulder, but he shook it off, too livid and too oversensitive to even be touched. 

“If you tell me to calm down, I’ll break your fucking neck.” He replied curtly, digging his hands through his pockets until he seized the packet of Treasurers Jim had passed him before he left. He lit one with shaking hands and took a few drags, feeling the adrenaline rush through him in waves: he was hungover, offended, and fucking determined. “Where’s the record?”

“I’ve got it.” Roger held it up between his fingers. “You know, we could just cut Rhapsody to three minutes.”

“Over my dead fucking body you will.” Freddie snatched it, resting his hands heavily on the counter. “You’d think I’d pitched Tubular fucking Bells.”

“It’s just old habits that they’re stuck in.” Brian said, trying to be soothing.

“It’s a little crazy in places, isn’t it? They’re looking for an easy sell after everything they spent on the studio.” John pointed out. “It’s experimental. It’s different.”

“It’s- it’s a fucking masterpiece!” Freddie turned back to them. “You were all for it in there, but now you want to fucking side with them?”

Roger glanced at the others, a little uncomfortable, and then sighed. “We need the money, Freddie. It’s alright for you with your millionaire boyfriend, but we’re still eating shit in the fucking dirt.”

Freddie’s eyes darkened. “You think I like having to ask for every penny of my being?” He countered. “I need the money just as badly as you do.”

“You’re not scrounging your food money anymore, are you?” He replied curtly.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise this had become a fucking poverty contest.” Freddie spat back. He grabbed the record from the counter and went for the door, rage pushing him to play harder than he ever had before.

“Where the fuck are you going?” John asked, sounding weary. “Come on, Freddie-”

“If there’s one thing I’ve fucking learned-” Freddie turned back to them and pointed his cigarette at them. “It’s that sex appeal gets you places a bit more fucking quickly in this world.”

* * *

He could be the most elegant liar when he wanted to; he could wander into any building as though he belonged there, graceful fingers clasped around a cigarette nobody would tell him to put out, and demand to speak to anybody, his credibility assumed. It had taken a request of  _ Kenny Everett, darling  _ and an  _ oh, we’re awfully good friends!  _ to pacify any doubts at his intentions and motivations-

Of course a man so beautiful would be  _ just friends  _ with Kenny Everett. 

“Thank you for seeing me so quickly, darling.” Freddie took his hand when it was proffered, shaking it warmly and then leaning up to place a sly kiss on his cheek; secrets had been murmured about the man before him, and he knew it had to be worth a chance. “I truly, truly appreciate it.”

“Apparently we’re good friends?” He asked, smiling warmly, eyes watching as Freddie’s lips closed in a pout around the end of his cigarette once again.

“Oh, darling, you don’t even know me! But I know you.” Freddie traced a finger over his shoulder, feeling the sharp curve beneath his fingers. “Or perhaps you do know me, darling. Does the name Queen ring a bell?”

He swallowed heavily, enraptured by the sinful curve of scarlet painted lips in front of him. “Killer Queen.” He replied, voice dry.

“Exactly!” Freddie’s smile was brilliant, as though he was announcing the winner of a fortune he could only dream of. “I believe you were the wonderful disc jockey who premiered my wonderful single back in the day. I believe it was you who put my name on the lips of so many. I was wondering, darling-” He lifted the cigarette to his lips and took a drag, as though the question was a mere suggestion, no sense of desperation behind it. “Would you do it again?”

A flash of a record sleeve came out from under his fur jacket and Kenny moved into action, holding the door open for him and gesturing to be quiet. He placed a new record on the turntable to be played after the current one and turned the microphones off. “Remind me of your name.” He requested, reaching for a bottle of champagne and two glasses and placing them on the table beside them. “Is this to your taste?”

“It’s Moët, darling, how could I ever say no to that?” He lifted the full glass to his lips and took a long swallow, allowing the fizzing in his throat to purge his body of the nerves that gripped tight to it. “I’m Freddie Mercury.”

“Freddie Mercury.” He replied, tasting the words on his tongue, a gorgeous concoction of chocolate, marshmallow, and the crispness of dessert wine flooded his senses. “I remember you.”

“People do say I’m rather difficult to forget.” He smirked, reaching his fingers up to play with a strand of his hair. “It might be the hair, darling, people sometimes haven’t recognised me with the new look.”

“It must be the hair.” He leaned forward to touch it and let his finger skim his cheek, his jawline; Freddie smiled lazily, content to let himself be pet and played with. “I couldn’t forget a face so pretty.”

“Just like I’ve never forgotten you.” Freddie murmured, pulling the record from his jacket and resting it in his lap. “So won’t you help me this once, darling?”

He smirked as the sound of the music faded, and suddenly, the world’s attention was on him. “In the studio today-” Kenny paused and looked over him once more, as though he could taste him with only his sight, and then grinned. “I have the lovely Frederick Mercury.”

Freddie winked as Kenny leaned in closer. “So what do you have for us today, darling? A taste of the new record?”

Freddie held the record just out of reach. “I’m really not supposed to, darling, honestly!”

“Forbidden fruit?” Kenny’s eyes travelled to his lips as he spoke, and Freddie made sure to exaggerate the pout just a little more. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Freddie spoke softly as he allowed Kenny to reach over and take the record from between his fingers.

“Bohemian Rhapsody.” He read off of the sleeve, eyes flickering back to Freddie soon after.

“The BBC won’t play it.” Freddie gave him a look he’d practised on Jim, soft, sad eyes, lower lip jutting slightly. “In fact- no one will play it on the radio, so EMI won’t even consider releasing it.”

“What’s wrong with this song?” He asked, enraptured.

“Nothing’s wrong with it at all.” Freddie sighed, and leaned as close as he could, resting his hand on Kenny’s knee. “Except that it’s six minutes long.”

“Six minutes?” He replied, watching the movement of Freddie’s throat as he swallowed another mouthful of champagne.

“You’d have to be mad to play it!” He replied, lowering his voice a little.

“You’d have to be bonkers.” He said quickly.

Freddie smirked and bit his lip. “They’d positively forbid it.” 

“Let’s hear it!” He exclaimed-

And the shock of the chiming of champagne glasses brought Jim back into his office, back into the corporate world of staying late to finish up paperwork that he hadn’t done because he was too busy ordering clothes for Freddie to even consider doing his work.

“Fucking hell.” He murmured, grabbing his suit jacket as he listened to the beauty of his fiancé’s voice over the tinny little radio in his office. “Oh, Freddie, what have you done this time?”

* * *

Freddie was flushed and a little tipsy from the best part of a bottle of champagne when he finally emerged into the dark Thursday evening in Leicester Square; he tottered precariously on his platforms as he wandered the streets to the tube station, praying it was late enough to get a seat on the Piccadilly line home. He couldn’t seem to help the smile on his face, though the rain trickled in rivulets down the hollows of his cheekbones: he lifted his arms to the sky and span around, laughing to himself, no longer giving a fuck who saw him, what they thought of him, whether they thought he was insane or whether they saw him for who he was, a man with power-

He trusted that he’d left the record in very safe hands.

His head thrummed with the excitable tune of a Charing Cross club, and his feet longed to dance their success, their victory- he was a toy, wound up tight, desperate to leap, jump, to fly up to the sky and explode like a firework with his pride at his victory. He took the stairs two at a time down to the station, jumping though precarious, and dug through his pocket to find his ticket for that day-

He screeched when two arms wound around him from behind, but the laughter against his neck mollified him immediately; he had always insisted he could hear a twang of an accent every time his lover laughed. He glanced down, and sure enough, the engagement ring that he’d slaved to buy was sat securely on his finger. He twisted his head around to catch sight of Jim’s face, and broke into laughter when he saw him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I heard your interview!” Jim spun him around so that they were face to face, and then leaned so close that their noses brushed. “So I wanted to come and congratulate you, and then you totally ignored me, you mad bastard!”

Freddie laughed and looped his arms around Jim’s neck, kissing him happily. “Did you like it?”

“Kenny wants to fuck you.” Jim grinned. “Absolutely, undoubtedly. I wanted to fuck you after I heard you playing up like that.”

“It’s not my fault if everybody wants to play with me.” Freddie smirked when Jim pushed him against the wall and kissed him again, not caring if he was in view of everybody. 

“You use it like a weapon.” Jim murmured against his lips.

“And I have no intention of putting the gun down, darling, look where it’s gotten me.” He smirked. “I got him pissed, but he’s still got another two hours of that show to run.”

“Poor bastard.” Jim grinned. “How did you even get in there?”

“I told him that I was very good friends with Kenny. I think everyone assumed I was his boyfriend.” Freddie ran a hand down Jim’s chest, playing idly with his belt for a moment before he moved his fingers away. “It’s a shame that you’re not a celebrity, darling, I’d love to be seen on your arm wherever we go.”

Jim clasped his wandering hands, arching a knowing eyebrow, and then smirked. “How about everyone sees you on my arm on the way home?”

“I suppose it’ll have to do.” Freddie sighed playfully. “Take me home, my darling.”

* * *

“Sometimes I feel as though my hands belong to somebody else.” Freddie murmured, lifting them from the piano keys momentarily, stunning the room into silence. “As though my head belongs to somebody else. I feel as though- as though I’m a vessel, darling, though I’m not sure what for.”

“The music you play.” Jim placed a mug of tea on top of the lid of the piano and then sat in the armchair opposite him. “It’s yours, it’s a part of you, but it’s a part of something so much bigger.”

“Oh, I like that.” He started to play again, the same song over and over again, the sound of his victory, the taste of his success. “I’m merely a vessel for my art, with a stomach and a taste for expensive liquor.”

Jim laughed and rested his head back lazily; it was gone midnight, and yet he wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else. “You know, baby, I love this song, but it’s not my favourite on the record.”

“What?” Freddie gasped, offended, and his playing paused again. “You prefer one written by the others?”

“I never said that, darling.” Jim chuckled. “You’re clearly the superior songwriter. No, I love Death the most. I love it when you’re so feisty.”

Freddie grinned and leaned on one elbow. “I’m like a kitten that’s been woken at an inopportune moment.”

“I think that describes you perfectly. You’re the third kitten in this house, and you’re definitely the most spoiled.” He smirked. “Play Death for me.”

The speed at which his fingers could move would always mesmerise Jim; he watched their agility, their seeming fragility, and their serpentine power for hours upon hours. He charmed the piano in the same way as he charmed men behind the bar, audiences up on stage, his lover in their bed; it sang so perfectly under his fingers, controlled to faultlessness.

He allowed his eyes to close, listening to the beauty of the piano, smiling when he added something a little extra to it, a little glissando to intrigue his lover further-

And the charming worked, for he was over halfway through with it before Jim realised he wasn’t singing.

“Where’s your voice?” He asked, opening his eyes and arching an eyebrow teasingly.

“I’ve got to rest it occasionally, my love.” He drawled lazily. “A voice this good is in high demand.”

“God, I love you.” Jim chuckled. “I think I love the piano version more than the original.”

“You love it when I shut up and stop talking?” Freddie laughed. “I do it with a lot of songs these days. I started it with Killer Queen. You know-” He tipped his head back euphorically as he allowed the music to wash over him. “I think I was born to do this. People said it was pointless learning piano and wanting to do rock’n’roll, but I’ll prove them wrong.”

“I don’t think there’s ever been a person so destined for the stage as you, darling.” Jim stood up and rested his hands on Freddie’s shoulders from behind, just massaging lightly. “You’re destined to become a frontman.”

“Oh, I hope so.” Freddie’s hands stilled on the piano once he’d finished playing, and he let his eyes flutter closed. “I really hope so.”

“I know so. But-” He pressed a kiss to the top of his head lazily. “Even the most incredible frontmen have to have their beauty sleep, especially when they’ve done their fair share of coke-fuelled benders the night before.”

Freddie laughed and wound his robe tighter around himself, standing up and taking his lover’s hand with a smile. “Are you suggesting it’s my bedtime?”

“Something like that.” He smiled, delighted at how easily he followed his lover into the bedroom. “I think it’s time you let that genius brain rest for a while.”

Freddie rested the palm of his hand against his forehead, and his smile only widened. “It has had a rather challenging day.” He conceded. “And we wouldn't want any dark circles, darling, would we?"

"Definitely not." Jim grinned. "You can sleep thinking about the photoshoots."

Freddie just smiled. "In that case, I'll definitely need beauty sleep."


	22. Velvet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovers, lovers, lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for waiting for this - these past few weeks have been incredibly busy with the end of my uni term, the end of lockdown, and upheaval in my house and my workplace!
> 
> This is short but sweet - there will be longer chapters to come!

Freddie’s toes hung lazily over the edge of the sofa, and he tapped a pencil against the hollow of his cheek; he closed his eyes and opened them restlessly, glancing over at Jim who lay on the other sofa. “Darling?” He whined, leaning over to poke him. “Jim, come on!”

Jim groaned and buried his face against the pillow he hugged to his chest. “Let me sleep.”

“You slept all last night!” Freddie pouted.

“You don’t work a full-time job!” He retorted.

“Oh, fuck off!” Freddie insisted, though he was laughing. “I worked three part-time jobs at one time. You don’t work a fucking full-time job either.”

He chuckled, warm with humour, and threw the pillow at Freddie. “Don’t be fucking rude.”

Freddie stood up and then fell to his knees on the floor next to him, nuzzling his cheek up against Jim’s hand. “Won’t you play with me?”

“I haven’t got anywhere near the energy to keep up with you.” He yawned, looping an arm around his waist and tugging him up onto the sofa next to him. Freddie’s pout split into a wide smile and he settled down in his arms, resting his head against Jim’s collarbone. “Will this do?” He asked playfully.

“More than enough.” He let his eyes flutter closed. “Every time I lay here I suddenly realise how tired I am.”

Jim grinned and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “Good. You don’t rest half enough.”

Freddie yawned and pressed a kiss to his chest in return. “I just can’t seem to sleep when you’re not around. You calm my mind.”

“My little snuggle bug.” Jim yawned. “Let me sleep awhile.”

“Deal.” Freddie smiled, winding an arm around Jim’s waist as they lay curled up on the sofa together. Jim played with the blunt strands of his hair until his breath had slowed, deepened, rich and easy and fluid against his skin; he pressed another kiss to his head and settled down himself.

“I love you.” Jim murmured, though he was sure Freddie was fast asleep. “And I’m never, ever going to leave you.”

The words bumped against the fog of fatigue in his mind and it took a moment for Freddie to respond, his words slurred, love and sleep drunk. “Say that again.” He whispered.

Jim’s cheeks coloured in response and he bit his lip, suddenly seeming so shy as he traced his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “I love you, and I’m never going to leave you.”

Freddie swallowed hard and wound his arms as tightly around Jim as he could, holding on as though they would be parted for the last time at any moment. “I love you.” He whispered. “I love you, I love you so much, fucking hell-” He murmured, voice growing thicker with the tears that burned against his cheeks.

“Oh, baby!” Jim said softly, surprised at the sudden emotion of his lover in his arms. Freddie was always so wild, so playful, that to see him so earnestly in love made Jim feel as though he was loving a different person, a person so beautiful and so tender and so devoted. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

Freddie smiled shyly and wiped his eyes, laughing a little. “It’s nice.” He admitted after a moment. “You- you let me slow down. You let me stop for a second, stop with all the- the- it’s not acting, I don’t know, but sometimes it feels as though the world is one huge stage and I’m the antagonist in so many people’s stories.”

“You know I love soft Freddie.” Jim chuckled and kissed the end of his nose. “You’re a performer, aren’t you? It’s a part of your nature to commandeer the attention of anyone and everyone, you’re the director of all the shows in the world.”

“It’s never felt like this before.” He murmured, sitting up a little; Jim’s hand came to smooth over the gentle curve of his thigh instead. “People aren’t like you.”

“People aren’t like you, baby. People don’t dare to live in the same way that you do.” Jim smiled. “You’re an incredible person.”

“No, but-” Freddie started, though his cheeks had turned rosy with a blush. “People always say I’m hard work. People think I’m fun for a night, two nights, maybe a week at most, but people never want me for longer.” He murmured. “Sometimes- on the bad nights, I think it’s all I’m good for. People don’t seem to want to love me.”

Jim lay back and interlaced their fingers, holding them up so Freddie could look at them. “You know what I love about you?” He replied. “People never seem to unapologetically be themselves. As boys, you know, we’re taught how to be men, and people seem to follow it so damn blindly, fuck, it’s people like me!” He laughed. “Working a dull job in finance and living for Friday nights, using money to support a family and kids. But you- you have to have an inner strength to reject that. And I think it was that first night, when you wandered into my bathroom and stole my lip gloss, that was when I realised you didn’t want to be like that. And you made me realise how much I don’t want to be like that too.”

“Maybe I really am hard work.” Freddie murmured, though he was smiling.

“Christ, darling, everyone is. It’s not hard work to love you if it’s what I want to do. If I wanted to write a novel, it wouldn’t feel like hard work, it’d be fun. And because I want to love you, I consider it a fucking privilege to do so.” He kissed his knuckles and smiled. “Please don’t ever think you’re hard work.”

Freddie smiled sweetly and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips; Jim cupped his cheeks to hold him there, lazy, languid, happy, as they passed kisses back and forth. “I don’t have to pretend with you.” He murmured once he’d pulled away, brushing his hand through his hair. “It’s like I feel- I don’t have to act. I feel like you’ll accept me no matter how I’m feeling or what I’m doing. And I- I’m not quite used to that yet.”

“You’ll get used to it, baby. You’ve got many more years of it yet to come.” He grinned as he sat up beside him and pulled him into another kiss. “I just can’t seem to help myself when you’re around.”

“I’m never going to say no to kisses, darling.” Freddie laughed and cupped his cheek, eyes fluttering closed. “I love you.”

* * *

Freddie laughed as he was suddenly pushed against the wall, the tie wrapped around his eyes blocking everything but the view of his own feet; he kissed back eagerly when Jim’s lips met his own, but the hands holding his wrists tightly stopped him from being able to control the kiss. “Remind me what I’m looking for, darling.” He murmured breathlessly.

Jim trailed a finger over his jawline and Freddie tilted his head up on demand, trying to predict every whim and desire of his lover’s. “You’re looking for your present, baby doll.”

“My present-” Freddie rolled his eyes from behind the tie and let his fingers trail over Jim’s chest, tracing the outlines of each of his muscles before fingers nimbly unlatched his present. “Have I found it, darling?”

“You think I’d go to this effort to get you to suck my cock, darling?” He teased, voice breathy in his ear, and Freddie shivered as his wrists were pinned back against the wall. “You’re far easier than that, baby. Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

Freddie smirked and arched an eyebrow. “If it’s not that, my love-” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Then how exactly am I supposed to find it with this over my eyes?”

He moved easily as Jim positioned him in front of him, resting his hands on his shoulders from behind. “The power of touch.” He murmured in his ear. “And I’ll make sure you don’t go careering into any corners.”

“You want the bruises on my hips to be purely your doing?” Freddie replied with a smirk, though he diligently swept his hand over the sideboard as they walked past it. “Have you cleared all of our things off of here?”

“It needed a good dust anyway.” Jim kissed the shell of his ear and laughed, and Freddie’s chest filled with warmth at the sound. “Besides, I’m not having you try and work out every little thing that you touch.”

“Can I at least know what shape it is?” Freddie asked, trailing his fingers over their coffee table, which was also empty, and then the potted plant.

“It’s a rectangle. I’m not telling you how-” 

Jim was cut off by Freddie’s scream and how quickly he retracted back his arm, elbowing him straight in the stomach. “You bastard!” Freddie yelled. “I thought it was a fucking prerequisite that you wouldn’t let me touch a fucking spider!”

“Oh my God, Freddie, you would’ve thought you’d lost a fucking hand.” Jim laughed, relieved, and pulled Freddie close, back pressed to his chest. “It’s fine, I’ll get rid of it.”

“Don’t-” Freddie’s voice softened momentarily. “Don’t kill it, though, won’t you? I don’t want dead things on my conscience.”

“It’s a fucking spider.” Jim chuckled, pressing a kiss to his head. “Okay, darling, I won’t kill the spider. But you’ve still got a present to find.”

“If it’s a giant spider I’ll bite your dick off.” He replied, wringing his hands together quickly. 

“Charming.” Jim grinned and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I promise you’ll like it.”

Freddie softened and started to smile again. “Fine. But do your spider watching duty properly.”

“Deal.” Jim steered him around the armchair as he watched the elegant trail of his fingers over the fabric. Once he’d made it into the kitchen - he’d helped him narrowly avoid bumping straight into the kitchen island - Jim leaned closer into his ear. “You’re getting warmer.”

Freddie started to grin, looking almost childlike. “Is it in the kitchen?”

“You’ll have to find out.” He grinned as Freddie opened a kitchen drawer, rifling around in it. “I like your thinking, but not quite.”

“Is it in a cupboard?” He asked, pulling open a cabinet door and feeling over their crockery. “There’s nothing rectangular in here.”

“You’re so hot it’s almost burning to touch.” Jim smirked. 

Freddie fell to his knees and pulled open another cupboard door. “Hotter?” He asked.

“I’m going to need a fire extinguisher.” He replied.

“Oh my God.” Freddie laughed, pulling open another cupboard, and another, and another, until he’d opened the one in the corner and stuck his hand inside. “There’s a box!”

“There’s a box!” Jim replied, taking it from Freddie. By the time he’d torn the tie away from his eyes and turned around to find his lover, he found him knelt on one knee on the floor: he held open the tiny box, so that Freddie could see what was inside.

“Jim-” Freddie laughed, his cheeks warming quickly. “What the hell?”

“You know what it means.” He grinned back at him. 

“We’re already engaged.” Freddie replied, though his smile had turned sweet and shy. 

“Yes, but-” He stood up opposite him and pulled him into a soft kiss. “That was an engagement of convenience. That was because you wanted to save me, not because you loved me. But I love you.” He kissed him again. “I fucking adore you. And besides, I’ve never gotten to give anybody a ring before.”

“Oh, darling-” Freddie smiled as Jim slipped the ring onto his finger. “Does this mean we’re officially on for a wedding, then?”

Jim grinned against his lips and kissed him once more. “You better get planning.”


	23. Whiskey Sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Business is more fun when there's time to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge (very graphic!) smut warning on this - dom Jim is just too fun, I'm sorry!

“Baby, I’m busy-” Freddie laughed, his whole body shivering as Jim’s fingers trailed over the hem of the shirt he wore; he laughed a little as he traced over his ribs, oh-so-ticklish. He stood poised, paintbrush in hand, lost in the meditative satisfaction of getting close to finishing the last room in the house that needed painting. Fingers dipped under the hem and over his bare skin, and Freddie’s eyes closed for just a moment, before he pushed against his hand firmly. “I’ve got to get this done, else the paint will go tacky.”

“You could wait for it to dry before you go back to it.” Jim kissed the side of his neck. “I want to play this time, darling.”

Freddie bit his lip, already so close to relenting, and yet he knew it would taste so much sweeter if he protested a little longer. “Jim-” He sighed playfully. “Can’t it wait?”

“You’ve never said that once in your adult life.” He smirked and kissed his neck again, feeling the way Freddie softened in his arms. “You don’t want me to make you feel good? Because if you don’t-”

Freddie turned around at the sudden loss of hands on his body, seeking his touch, his grounding, his warmth. “Oh, you bastard-” He murmured, leaning up for a kiss.

Jim cupped his cheek and kissed him indulgently; Freddie’s eyes fluttered closed as they kissed long and slow and lazy. “You love me.” Jim grinned, fingers gently skimming his skin once again.

“If you weren’t so right, Hutton...” Freddie murmured against his lips, gasping as Jim suddenly picked him up; his smile turned into a smirk as he kissed him again. “Where are you taking me?”

“I’ll give you three guesses.” He grinned, squeezing Freddie’s thighs lightly. “Fuck, baby, your legs-”

Freddie laughed as he was thrown down on the bed, spreading his legs lewdly. “You can get between them if you want to.”

Jim arched a playful eyebrow and stood beside the bed, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt as he let his eyes rake over Freddie’s body. “I think I know exactly what I want to do to you.” He murmured, his voice dropping down a tone.

Freddie watched him curiously as his fingers unlatched his belt, dark eyes just begging for his guidance, though he waited, oh-so-calm and composed. Jim could barely contain his smirk as he watched him grow more impatient, watched him try to get Jim’s attention again as he calmly took off his socks, trying to arch his back in a way that would drag his eyes towards him once again.

He timed it in his head; three minutes and four seconds.

“Darling?” Freddie murmured, though his voice was softer, sweeter, devilishly demure. 

Jim let his eyes rake over him again, appreciating the flush that had suffused over his chest. “Why don’t you come and kneel here?” He asked, gesturing to the foot of the bed. “You can undress for me first.”

Freddie shivered at the tone of his voice, his heart beating faster with excitement, but he faltered on the bed a little longer. “I can undress for you, can I? That’s awfully kind of you.” He smirked, biting one of his fingernails seductively. 

“Did I say you could speak?” He countered.

Freddie’s cheeks flushed red and he bit his lip, immediately realising the game they were playing. “No, sir.” He replied, standing up; at the beautiful smile that crossed Jim’s face, he knew he’d said the right thing.

“I didn’t think I had.” He mused, watching him as he pulled his t-shirt overhead. Freddie’s skin prickled with the attention, though he stood defiantly as he kicked off his briefs; he crawled back onto the bed and knelt in front of him, immediately smiling when Jim’s hand cupped his cheek and tilted his head up. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

He grinned up at him and let his eyes close heavily for a moment, centring himself, before he looked back up at his lover. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Depends on how well you behave.” He replied, stroking his finger over his jawline before he stepped back and took his belt from the chair behind him. “Hands behind your back, doll.”

Freddie’s head spun with the sensation of giving up his power, his control; he stretched his fingers out, looking down at them for a moment, and then clasped his wrists behind his back. “Thank you, darling.” Jim murmured, looping the belt around his wrists quickly. He tested the tightness quickly before he walked back to his front, smiling at the sight of him, flushed, hard, his wrists bound together. “Is that all okay?”

Freddie knew the question was deeper than it sounded, and he smiled lazily in response. “So okay.” He whispered.

“Good.” He replied, stroking a hand over Freddie’s shoulders. “Tell me if it’s not okay at any time.”

“I promise.” He murmured, leaning into his touch. 

“Good.” He repeated, running a finger down his chest. He ran his thumb over his nipple, watching the shiver that resounded through his body, and smirked as he pinched it a little harder. Freddie bit hard on his lower lip to quiet himself at the sudden pleasure; he arched his back a little to push into the touch instead. “Don’t be quiet, baby, I like to hear you.”

Freddie moaned, soft and almost shy, as he pinched harder, ducking his head down to hide the blush; he looked up obediently as soon as a finger hooked under his chin, though his eyes fluttered against the pleasure. “I never knew you were so sensitive.” Jim smirked at the desperate noises he made as he thumbed over it more gently again. “Could I get you off from this?”

Freddie’s hands pushed into his ankles as he arched his back more harshly. “Probably.” He swallowed hard. 

“Tempting.” Jim leaned down and closed his mouth around his other nipple, kissing it lewdly before he gently scraped his teeth over the sensitive skin. Freddie moaned louder, his cock leaking a little, his eyes falling closed again as Jim’s talented mouth made him gasp. His eyes flew open only seconds later, as Jim moved back- he let out a tiny little whimper as he watched him. “I think we’ll do that another time.”

He stood before him for a moment before he leaned down, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and slowly starting to stroke him instead. “Oh, fuck-” Freddie murmured, raking his eyes over Jim’s figure, still fully clothed though his shirt was undone; his breathing sped up a little at the thrill of the vulnerability.

“You blush like a virgin every time I touch you.” He murmured, voice full of humour, and rolled the palm of his hand over the head of his cock; Freddie let out a wanton whine in response. “But I think I’m probably the last man in London to fuck you.”

“I’m a status symbol.” Freddie smirked, moaning as the hand around him sped up. “Jim- ah!”

“I want to watch you. They didn’t care, I do. I want to see you fall apart.” His voice darkened further as he sat beside him at the foot of the bed, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock and the other around the head. Freddie whimpered as he rolled his palm over the head of his cock again, the other hand tightening deliciously until he was rolling his hips up into the pleasure. “That’s it, doll, come on.”

He tipped his head back as he thrust harder into his hands, suddenly unable to care that Jim’s eyes watched his every movement, watched every hungry gasp for air and every desperate curve of his lips in a whimper. “God-” He moaned. “Fucking hell…”

He tightened his fingers around the base of his cock and he let go with his other hand, watching the outraged way Freddie’s eyes snapped open. “You called me a tease the other day.” Jim leaned in for a kiss, smiling at the desperate press of Freddie’s lips against his own. “If you want to come tonight, you’ll have to ask me nicely.”

“Jim-” Freddie groaned. “Jim, fuck, come on-”

“That’s not very nice, darling, is it?” He arched an eyebrow, closing his hand back around him and stroking him quickly; Freddie keened high at the back of his throat, thrusting his hips, and gasped when Jim let go to smooth his hand over his stomach. “We can keep doing this all night, I don’t mind.”

“Fucking hell.” Freddie panted, chest heaving as Jim stroked his hand over his skin, tweaking his nipple as he moved past. “I don’t beg.”

“You don’t beg?” Jim smirked, standing up and retrieving a bottle of oil from their bedside cabinet. He poured a little of the oil into the palm of his hand before he wrapped it back around Freddie’s cock, the smell of vanilla spilling from the touch of their skin. “You’re going to sit there with your hands tied behind your back and you’re going to tell me you don’t beg? If I wanted you to suck me off, you’d agree in seconds. You’re all too eager to please.”

Freddie groaned at the slick slide of Jim’s palm against his sensitive skin, biting his lip hard. “I don’t fucking beg.” He repeated, furrowing his brow as he panted. 

“The quicker you do, the quicker you’ll come.” He replied, slowing his strokes until they were painfully slow. “How long can you last on the edge until you break?”

“Long enough for you to get bored.” Freddie countered, his eyes closing heavily as he rolled his hands over his balls.

“You underestimate me.” Jim picked up the bottle and dripped the oil over his chest, smoothing his hand over the skin gently. “I never thought I’d be into skin as smooth as yours, fucking hell.”

Freddie laughed, letting his heart rate slow a little, and then let out a noise between a cry and a moan as Jim started to stroke him quickly again. “Jim-” He gasped.

“You know the words, baby, you know what to say.” He said, voice light and playful as he twisted his other hand over the head of his cock.

“Jim!” Freddie moaned, thrusting harder into his hand as ecstasy rose up through his body. 

“Not good enough.” He murmured in his ear, tightening one hand around the bottom of his cock to stave off his orgasm as he continued to stroke him off quickly.

“Oh, you bastard-” Freddie moaned in frustration, hands balling into fists behind his back.

Jim let go of his cock and picked up the bottle again, dribbling oil over the head of his cock; Freddie’s eyes hooded and he swallowed hard, and Jim could see he was on the edge of breaking. “I’ve never met somebody so willing to put themselves through this.” Jim smirked and rolled his balls in his hand. “You look like you’re ready to explode.”

Freddie swallowed as he picked up the pace again, daring to look down at the sight of his hand wrapped around his cock; he screwed his eyes shut and moaned louder. “Please!” He whined.

“Oh, that word is the prettiest thing you’ve ever spoken.” Jim ran his thumb over his slit and smiled dangerously. “Say it again, princess.”

“Please.” He repeated, voice cracking and dry. “Please, please, I’m so close, please-”

“Beautiful boy.” Jim murmured indulgently. “Come on, sweetness, come for me.”

Freddie gasped as one hand rubbed at the head while the other jerked off the base. “Oh fuck-” He moaned, desperately swallowing air. “Oh God, oh fuck, oh God-”

Jim watched delightedly as he came over his fingers, leaning in to kiss the desperate moans from his lips as he crashed through his ecstasy. He stroked him until he was whining with the stimulation and then raised his fingers to his lips; Freddie sucked them into his mouth eagerly to clean them. “See, baby, doesn’t it feel good when you’re good for me?”

Freddie moaned around his fingers and Jim arched a curious eyebrow, pushing his fingers a little further in; Freddie swallowed around him eagerly, looking up at him, so eager to please. Jim grinned as he pulled his fingers out, trailing them over Freddie’s reddened lower lip. “Have you got a thing for my hands?”

Freddie’s cheeks flushed a little and he leaned closer, sucking on the end of his finger in response. “Fucking hell, Freddie.” He muttered, pressing his fingers deep into his throat again. “One of these days I’m going to have you over my knee and I’ll finger you until you come all over yourself.”

“Fuck-” Freddie murmured, pulling back a little. “My cock can’t cope.”

Jim chuckled, low and dark at the back of his throat, and stood in front of him, unzipping his trousers. “Well, mine can.”

* * *

Legs were crossed at the ankle as he lay on his front, his paintbrush making fine, beautiful lines on the paper before him; he didn’t often paint pictures of himself, but the crescendo of the stage lights made the inky snapshot seem so vibrant, the perfect encapsulation of everything he was onstage. The reds met with blues, murky, inseparable and yet distinctive; the bright white cut through the darkness to focus the spotlight on him, on the lewd backbend as he balanced so easily on one leg. It focused on the lithe curve of his body, his body kept healthy with restaurants on expenses and hours upon hours of jumping, climbing, running, exhausted and drenched with sweat by the end of an evening- it focused on the pumping of his heart in his chest, perfectly timed to the beat of his music.

Freddie loved to paint the good times, memorable performances of being a lone body amongst a sea of anonymous faces screaming for him, desiring him, wanting him, in awe of him. He loved the feeling of power, strength, resonating from his core; he loved the power it gave him to rake over the audience, picking, choosing, granting him the right to whoever he so desired.

He wasn’t a little boy, an art-school dropout, any longer; he wasn’t sniffed at, scorned. He wasn’t standing on street corners - he didn’t have to be discrete anymore, ten pounds in the back of a car, holding it under his tongue until he could spit it in the verge beside the road. His body thrummed with energy, and he adored being allowed to be so effervescent, untethered: he had the security of the body in the bed beside him, patching up his knees when he’d skinned them once again, bandaging his hand when he’d sliced it open on the edge of a drum, and yet he had the freedom to be utterly reckless.

He had the freedom to throw himself around as though his body were only a vague necessity, as though his spirit needed to explode from the confines from his skin; he had the freedom to be alive, to play, to pull forwards and backwards and to drop his tone just a little, enough to get the men in bed that night with tight fists and ecstatic sighs and oh-so-confused feelings.

He sat back and admired his picture, grinning to himself; he stood to refresh his water and immediately screeched as an arm wrapped around his waist.

“You’re in your own world, sweetness.” Jim murmured, pulling him close; Freddie grinned and rested his cheek against the cold silk of his jacket. 

“And you’re all dressed up.” He replied, standing on his toes to smooth out the collar of his jacket.

“I can make an effort when I want to. Sometimes I carry a cane if I feel like being especially intimidating.” He grinned, tilting Freddie’s chin up for a kiss. “What’s on your agenda for this evening?”

Freddie kissed him eagerly and ran his hands over his shirt, freshly pressed. “You didn’t do this.” He murmured, feeling the sharp creases on his sides. “I haven’t got anything, darling. I’ve got to finish this painting before long, but the deadline isn’t for another two weeks, and I’m not working tonight.”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d say that.” Jim smirked. “How do you feel doing a little business with me? I’m going to do quality checks at a couple of bars on St. James.”

Freddie grinned back at him. “How expensive are the drinks, my love?”

“Oh, baby, they’re all free to you and me. The richer you are, the cheaper it is.” He chuckled. “Besides, they can’t charge their owner for liquor.”

Freddie laughed with him. “I feel as though I’d love this arrangement.” He grinned at him. “But I’m afraid I haven’t got a stitch to wear.”

“You think I’d leave you like that?” Jim grinned. “Why don’t you go into the dressing room, baby?”

Freddie’s smile only widened as he disappeared into their dressing room; he reappeared a few minutes later, and Jim’s breath caught in his throat. He wore a pair of black suit trousers, a black fitted shirt, and a red silk jacket patterned with flowers that caught the light at all angles; he smiled, lazily confident, and walked over to Jim. “You really do have an excellent taste, don’t you?”

“I just knew you’d look incredible in red.” Jim let his hands hungrily roam Freddie’s sides. “Oh, baby, you’ll kill me one of these days.”

Freddie laughed and kissed him happily. “A red lip to match, I assume?”

“Of course.” Jim grinned as he watched him paint his lips in the lounge mirror, deft in his precision. “You really are my beautiful boy, aren’t you?”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Freddie replied, winking at him in the mirror.

“Oh, fuck off. You’re objectively the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.” Jim kissed the back of his neck and grinned. “And you know I love being able to show you off.”

* * *

If the whole world wasn’t his stage, then Jim’s world was definitely a catwalk; rich men didn’t aim to hide their prying eyes as he sat back in a leather armchair, whiskey glass between his delicate fingers. “Why did you need my help on business, darling?” 

“You’re a bartender, baby, aren’t you?” He grinned. “I may have a taste for expensive drinks, but it doesn’t mean I know how to make them. You’ll be far better at critiquing than I am.”

“Which is why you put about six shots of vodka in my glass on our first night together.” Freddie chuckled, laughing harder when Jim sat forward and kicked him in the hip. “Watch it!” He laughed. “I nearly spilled it!”

“Why do you think I bought you a suit in silk?” Jim grinned. “Dark silk is very forgiving.”

“You’re planning on getting me wasted, then?” He teased, taking a mouthful of his drink; as it slid over his palette, his brow furrowed in disgust. “It’s like alcoholic dishwater.”

“Let me taste it.” Jim leaned forward and swallowed from his glass. “There is something bitter about it.”

“They’ve just mixed lemon juice and whiskey and called it a fucking whiskey sour.” He muttered, repulsed, and stood up.

“Baby, baby, where are you going?” He asked with a laugh, taking Freddie’s hand; he grinned when the diamond of his engagement ring caught the low light of the bar. “I’ll put it in the report.”

“You’re going to let them keep serving up that monstrosity to other clients?” Freddie arched an eyebrow, refusing to sit down.

“They’ll be too drunk to notice.” He chuckled.

“Well, that’s your problem. I’ll give them a fucking masterclass.” He pulled his hand back and walked over to the bar; Jim laughed at the way he pushed past others with a low murmur of the word  _ Hutton _ and leaped over the bar.

“Freddie fucking Mercury.” He shook his head to himself and adjusted his collar before he stood, carrying the offending glass in his hand- and then he paused.

Because the bartenders had paused, and were watching him, earnestly watching him as he deftly poured a line of drinks for the four men in front of him; he wouldn’t allow slow service, and especially not slow service with terrible drinks. He watched as he turned back to the staff, retrieving a whiskey glass and pouring himself another drink, fully aware he was performing for the sake of both staff and customers and that they watched every little move he made-

“One of them for the gentleman, dolly?” A man leaned over the bar, and Jim saw his face darken. 

“You’re anything but a gentleman.” He replied, calmly sipping his drink. “You’re a cunt.”

He scowled in response. “Once upon a time, you thought the world of me.”

“Once night, I slept with you, and I’ve regretted it every night since.” Freddie informed, leaning on the bar in front of him and lighting a cigarette. “Fuck off.”

“You can’t fucking speak to me like that.” He replied, aghast. “I was your lover, we were going to get married, you-”

“You’re fucking delusional!” Freddie countered. “I slept with you once! We were never lovers, Christ, don’t be fucking pathetic.”

He leaned across and grabbed Freddie’s collar, and Freddie slapped him so hard that his palm stung and the noise rang out over the thumping bass of the bar. The man stumbled backwards, aghast, and then glared at him once again. “I’ll get the fucking manager.”

Freddie could barely contain his smirk as he took another sip of his drink. “I think that’s an excellent idea, darling. Why don’t you get the owner? He’s the one in the navy suit, just over there.” He pointed at Jim and took a drag on his cigarette. “I’m sure he’d love to hear your complaint.”

It was as though every trap he’d ever laid had been concentrated into the path between himself and Jim; he winked at his fiancé as the man stumbled towards him. “That-” He started, and Jim was a little taken aback at his rage. “That fucking- fucking  _ slut,  _ he fucking slapped me.”

Jim arched his eyebrow a little and took a drag on his own cigarette. “Well, did you do something that deserved it?”

His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“I think it’s only fair that he can slap you if you deserved it.” He replied clearly, shrugging languidly. 

“I wouldn’t have if he wasn’t such a dickhead.” Freddie came up beside him and sighed, simpering deliberately enough to make himself appear disgustingly infatuated with the man before him.

“There we go.” Jim tilted his chin up and pressed a lazy kiss to his lips, smiling to himself. “You see, I don’t usually allow dickheads in my bars.”

“You’re such a fucking slut.” He mumbled, looking Freddie up and down dismissively. “Don’t you know how many men he’s had? He doesn’t remember the names of half.”

“I don’t remember yours, as it goes.” Freddie lied, just aiming to infuriate him more. “David, was it?”

“We were in a relationship-” He started, trying to justify himself to Jim.

“He was one night of many, darling, and he ranked very far down the list. I think you’d be disappointed at the size of what he’s packing.” Freddie said, matter-of-fact, and took another drag, hollowing his cheeks deliberately.

“I’ve always liked a man with experience.” Jim grinned and squeezed the curve of Freddie’s ass gently. “Go on, fuck off.”

“Excuse me?” The man coughed.

“Do you need the instructions in a different language? I told you to fuck off.” He replied. “I thought your English would be competent enough, judging by just how many slurs you know.”

“You know what-” He shook his head, enraged, and shoved past Freddie. “Fuck you!”

“God-” Jim laughed, pushing him against the wall and kissing him again, long and slow and deep until they were both breathless. “You’re fucking infuriating, aren’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little PSA to everyone who has chosen to leave things on my Tumblr ask, has messaged me, has put me on a rec list or has left me on a creator post - I appreciate you all so so much and you are the reason I continue to write these fics - you're what makes it so fun! If I don't reply to you, it's because I'm terrible at using Tumblr beyond the messaging feature (however, please hit me up to start a convo if you want to! as Nish can concur, I spend most of my time throwing fluorescent/bout concepts at you to ask what you think!) but I really appreciate you so much, and by sharing my work, you've helped me get more readers than ever before!
> 
> So please, please, feel free to post about this series, review it, you can create your own concepts based on these characters, you can draw them, some of the things people have sent me already are so incredible! 
> 
> And - of course - I will always be here to read all of your lovely comments! It all means so much to me and I'm so grateful that you choose to share this with me.
> 
> Lily x


	24. Soft Plush Blanket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early morning office visits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some happy things for all you that had to go through Incandescent today!

He hadn’t been very happy sending Freddie to work that evening; he’d been trying to plant the idea in his mind of maybe quitting his job, maybe doing more performances instead, maybe making the plunge into making music his full time job.

Freddie had laughed at the idea as he’d put his work shirt on. 

He’d slept a total of six hours in the last seventy-two, between attending all the right parties with all the right people with his lover and serving drinks to the leering gentlemen of London; his eyelids had drooped every time they’d sat together on the tube, or else every time Jim had managed to shoehorn him into sitting down with a cup of tea over breakfast, and yet he’d jumped up again so quickly, as though it was only the kinetic energy in his body that kept him going. He’d spent far too long in the studio, using his lover’s money to lay and re-lay down his vocals a hundred times, singing until his throat was hoarse and he had to begrudgingly accept a break; he’d been mysteriously alluring when they’d then gone out that night, refusing to talk to all but a select few, but Jim knew he was trying to rest it from where he’d torn it raw.

He swiped his pass at the door and nudged it open with his hip, balancing a stack of papers that he’d worked on the night before; in his other hand balanced a coffee from the café over the road. He’d always detested the office coffee, tasting more like dishwater than creamer and sugar. 

“Good morning, darling.” He smiled at the receptionist as he placed his cup down on the desk and took a pen from his pocket to sign himself in. 

“Good morning, sir.” She smiled sweetly back at him. “You’ve got a client waiting for you upstairs.”

“Already?” He asked, pocketing the pen again and glancing at his watch. “It’s only twenty past eight, and I don’t have anyone on the books until ten. I thought we had another acquisitions meeting at nine?”

“He said it was something to do with the Linklaters portfolio management.” She replied. “Does that help?”

“Christ, it’s too early for this.” He chuckled. “Thank you, darling. I hope you have a good day.”

“Thank you!” She smiled sunnily at him as he walked over to the lift; he placed his coffee on the floor and quickly searched his pile for the Linklaters paperwork that he’d done at two o’clock that morning. He scanned it as he walked into the corridor, refreshing his mind on the intricacies of their case as he shoved his key into the lock and opened his office door.

He was so absorbed in his reading that he didn’t realise Freddie Mercury was sat on the floor by his office door, fast asleep.

Jim’s eyes shot up in surprise and he nudged Freddie gently with the toe of his shoe, worrying momentarily that he was drunk or drugged; as soon as those gorgeous eyes opened, he knew his fears were unfounded. He quickly dropped his papers on the table in his office and came back to him, crouching in front of him and cupping his cheek. “Darling?” He asked softly.

Freddie yawned in response and rubbed his tired eyes. “Tired.” He murmured.

“Christ, Freddie.” Jim laughed, leaning forward to hug him close; he smiled at how close he clung and picked him up carefully. “Why didn’t you come home?” He asked softly.

“Long journey.” He murmured exhaustedly. “Finished twenty minutes ago.”

“I thought you were supposed to finish at two?” He questioned, kissing his forehead and carrying him into his office. He placed him down on the sofa and knelt down beside him, stroking his cheek gently. “Hm?”

“I was. Didn’t finish until eight.” He whispered, eyes closing heavily again; Jim draped a blanket over his body as he lay down sleepily. 

“I haven’t got any meetings for the next few hours.” Jim kissed his forehead gently. “You get some rest, okay?”

He nodded and snuggled down; Jim stroked his cheek until he was certain he was asleep, and then went and sat at his desk. He flicked to his unfinished paperwork, turning the radio on low to accompany him, and smiled to himself as he glanced at Freddie asleep on his sofa. “Case at Linklaters.” He murmured to himself with a laugh, shaking his head. “Freddie, what are you like?”

* * *

Jim had the phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder as he wrote and sipped coffee simultaneously; he hummed his thanks as he noted down a sequence of figures on his paper. “That makes a lot more sense, thank you.” He smiled. “I thought that one of these had to be wrong somewhere down the line.”

Freddie listened to the sound of his voice and smiled to himself, rubbing his eyes awake. He rolled onto his side and watched the beautiful smile on his face as he continued to murmur his thanks; he smiled back at him as soon as their eyes met. As soon as he put the phone down, Freddie stood up, his shirt all crumpled, and threw his arms around Jim’s neck. “You’re such a lovely person.”

Jim laughed and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “That’s a very nice thing for you to say.”

“It’s true, though. You’re just lovely to everyone, you always hear stories of managers and bosses being horrible to the people they work with, but you’re just so lovely to everybody.” Freddie smiled. “Makes me proud to be your fiancé.”

“Baby!” Jim laughed and kissed the end of his nose. “You’ve gone all snuggly and sweet.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve seen enough of you.” Freddie rested his head against his collarbone and smiled. “Missed you.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve seen you much outside of debauchery and cocaine mode.” Jim pulled him into his lap and kissed the side of his head. “I always miss sweet snuggly Freddie.”

Freddie laughed softly and kissed the skin next to his lips. “Would you like to see more of him today?”

“I can’t imagine anything better.” Jim chuckled. “I’d like to order a pizza and snuggle with him all night.”

Freddie grinned at the idea. “I’m supposed to be working tonight.” He whispered.

“Quit your job.” Jim whined, pulling him closer. “Make the plunge into your music.”

“You just want me all to yourself.” Freddie chuckled. “I can’t just quit my job.”

“You can. You know I’ll look after you, baby.” Jim kissed the tip of his nose. “I’ll look after you until you’re big and famous and then you can look after me.”

Freddie laughed and snuggled against him. “I’ve got a sore throat again.”

“Because you try and squash a week’s worth of recording into three days. You’ll be hurting yourself at this rate.” Jim stroked his hair gently. “Please, baby? For me?”

Freddie rolled his eyes and smiled, but Jim could see a hint of nervousness behind his eyes. “Do you really think we’ll make it?” He asked softly.

Jim smiled widely. “Why not try it while you’ve got a safety blanket to risk it? Put your all into it and see how it happens.”

“I think we’re going on Top of the Pops before long.” He smiled shyly. “They contacted EMI to ask about Rhapsody. Kenny played it fourteen times in two days and apparently people kept demanding it at record stores. We haven’t even released the single yet.” He laughed.

“See! You’re not going to need some dead-end bar job when you’re releasing the most anticipated single of the year.” Jim grinned. “So come home with me, eat pizza in bed, and then we’ll go down to the studio tomorrow.”

“We will?” Freddie asked softly.

“Well, if you’re going to be a world-famous musician, then I need to know what it’s all about, don’t I?” He grinned. “Can I come with you?”

“As long as you’re quiet while I’m recording.” Freddie laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I’ve taken practically no holiday all year, so I’m going to make the most of having a couple of days off with you.” Jim smiled. “I want to see your world. See if I’d be any good at it.”

“Depends. Can you sing?” Freddie asked with a smile. “I’d like to hear you sing.”

“Only in a classical baritone choir boy kind of a way.” Jim chuckled. “I was lead chorister at school.”

“When you went to Eton.” Freddie rolled his eyes playfully.

“It was Westminster, actually.” Jim grinned. “And I promise I’ll behave.”

“I can introduce you properly to the boys, too. Last time we were all together I was off my fucking face.” Freddie laughed. “I’d like that.”

“Deal, baby. We’ll do it tomorrow.” He smiled. “Why don’t you go home and I’ll see you later? You’ll get cramp in your back if you sleep on my sofa all day.”

“Come home with me.” Freddie hung onto him harder. “I want to stay in your lap all day.”

“You’re rather distracting. I don’t think I’ll get a single piece of work done with you in my lap.” Jim laughed. “What about when my other boys come to see me during the day?”

Freddie rolled his eyes and swatted his thigh playfully. “You flatter yourself.”

“Hm, you’re the one that wants me to play with you all day.” He murmured in his ear; he stood up quickly and Freddie let himself be lowered down to the floor. “I’ll get my jacket.”

Freddie grinned and took a cigarette from him as they walked out together, hand-in-hand. “Can we do pizza in bed for dinner and then go out tonight?” He asked hopefully. “I’m in the mood to wind up some rich men by wearing indecent shorts.”

Jim snorted with laughter and pressed another kiss, softer, to his lips. “Of course we can, my darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're about to have the best upward curve plotline ever


	25. Baritone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets, and truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long! I got really into writing Incandescent and then I just couldn't get the vibe of Bout right (I'm still not 100% with this but let's not be too much of a perfectionist!). I've been back at work this week and so I've been super 😴 too which is why it's a little short (only 2500 words!)

“Do you think I look like a whore in this?” Freddie asked with a smirk, standing in front of the mirror in their bedroom dressed in just a tight pair of shorts and a little crop top. “I cropped this myself. Do you like it?”

Jim chuckled from where he was laying back on their bed and looked over him. “I think you look edible, darling.” He replied sweetly. “I think if you were going for whore, then you got it.”

Freddie turned around and grinned. “I was half tempted to go for fishnets and really ham it up. I assumed that you weren’t going to take me anywhere too respectable tonight.”

“I think I’ve changed my mind about where I’m going to take you.” Jim grinned, blowing out smoke at the ceiling leisurely. “I was going to take you to somewhere a little more upmarket, but you seem to be in the mood for a coke fuelled night of debauchery.”

Freddie grinned and leaned over to pluck the cigarette from his hand. “How could you tell?” He asked with a grin. 

“Come here, baby.” Jim held out a hand for him and grinned as he crawled over him and sat on his hips. He pulled him into a kiss, long and slow and lazy, and smiled as he pulled away. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Freddie smiled sweetly as Jim brushed the pad of his thumb over his cheekbone. “Are you in the mood to go out tonight? I don’t want to push you into anything.”

“Oh, I’ll take any chance I have to show you off!” Jim grinned. “I might not follow you to Heaven, though, if you decide to go on the coke.”

“The boys will never forgive me if I’ve got a bitch of a hangover tomorrow.” Freddie chuckled. “I’ll have to watch what I’m drinking. I really don’t want to fuck it up tomorrow.”

“You won’t.” Jim smiled, lifting his head up a little and pressing another gentle kiss to his lips. “I might have to have a couple of conversations while you have all the fun.”

Freddie lay down against his chest and pressed his cheek to Jim’s shoulder. “Will you dance with me?” He asked hopefully. “I’m in the mood for dancing.”

Jim grinned and ran his thumb over his cheek again. “I didn’t notice you were sparkly. Of course I’ll dance with you, darling.”

Freddie smoothed his hand over Jim’s chest admiringly. “I’ve got highlighter on. It looks good under strobe lights.” He smiled and kissed him again. “I think this is the first time in weeks I haven’t seen you in a suit or in pajamas.”

“Whereas I get to spend all of my time with you in different outfits that make you look positively delicious, darling.” He trailed his fingers over Freddie’s ass playfully. 

“That’s because most of the time I’m wearing my underwear.” Freddie grinned and pressed a kiss to his wrist as his arm trailed over his back and up to cup his cheek. 

“And what a delightful sight it is. You make me feel like a proper millionaire, when you dance half naked around our house in underwear that I bought you.” He chuckled. “I feel like your sugar daddy.”

“That’s because you are.” Freddie smirked and leaned in, kissing him luxuriously. “You buy me pretty clothes and lavish your attention and money on me, and in return I give you head.”

Jim swatted his ass playfully. “You’re more than just your mouth.”

“Maybe I also give you all of my love.” Freddie grinned and kissed him again, smiling at how gentle Jim was with him. “You know, you’re the first lover that hasn’t put me in the category of time-consuming, demanding, and an all around handful.”

“Oh, you’re absolutely in that category, darling, but the difference is that I can keep up with you. If you want to go out six nights in a row, I’ll be there.” Jim grinned. “A lot of those men you’ve had must be awfully boring.”

Freddie laughed. “You enjoy a time-consuming, demanding handful?”

“I enjoy you.” He replied. “All of you. From your wicked tongue to the ridiculous way you hold a paintbrush, darling, I love you.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet!” Freddie sang happily, resting his head on Jim’s shoulder with a smile. “I knew I chose you for a reason.”

“And I’m honoured, darling.” Jim kissed the top of his head and smiled. “Now come on, grab your jacket.”

Freddie only laughed, his voice gorgeous as it echoed around the bedroom. “Darling, you should know by now that I never wear a sensible jacket.”

* * *

He considered that Freddie had no concept of the word moderation; he had lived his whole life in a world of up and downs, endless nights of debauchery, living on top of the world in a haze of drugs and sex and rock and roll, or scraping the money for the rent, going hungry once it had all run out. It was as though the excitement of a night out, the excitement of being allowed to be reckless, was still as fresh as the first night they’d been out together: he got lost in the thrill of endless drinks, never having to hand over money. They knew who he was, who he was with; one day, an envelope would land on their doorstep with all their charges, hastily dealt with by his lover.

Jim laughed as he watched his fiancé dance, relishing in the thrill of the attention that was lavished upon him; he knew that everybody in that room wanted him, proved by the hungry grabbing of hands at his thighs, his ass, his waist.

More than once, Jim had wound his arms around him in the centre of the dancefloor, eyes fending men off his beautiful, effervescent lover.

“Your mind is elsewhere.” Ryan sat up on the stool opposite him and grinned, holding his palm out. “How much is the charge tonight?”

Jim dragged his eyes away from Freddie and arched an eyebrow. “You know I don’t sell.”

“Not even on a good day?” He asked, pouting his lower lip just slightly. “I know you’ve got it on you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll overcharge you.”

“Shoot.” He replied. “Go on, honey, please?”

“Two hundred.” He shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

He took the four notes and folded them carefully in his hand, before he handed over a bag. “Don’t tell anyone, alright? My boy doesn’t know.”

“Your boy?” He asked with a grin, looking out over the crowd of people. “Explains your wandering eyes. Which one is he?”

“Baby in the middle.” He grinned, sipping his drink. “The blondie.”

“The pretty one.” He replied, standing on his toes to see Freddie better. “He looks like he’s high enough on it to know it.”

“Oh, he knows the drug well. But he’s only drunk tonight.” Jim chuckled. “He just doesn’t know what I do.”

“He can’t seriously believe that people get as rich as you legally.” He laughed. “He thinks you made all that with investment banking?”

“Either that or he just hasn’t questioned it.” Jim shrugged. “So long as I keep him happy, I suppose.”

“Dangerous game, Hutton. Has he never asked why people are fucking scared of you?” He grinned. “Why people go all  _ yes sir, no sir  _ as soon as you walk through the doors of an establishment?”

Jim just smirked as he swallowed another mouthful of his drink. “I’ll see you later. Mouth shut.”

* * *

Freddie’s socks were quiet on the wooden floor of the studio, his eyes bright and his mouth upturned in a gorgeous, excited smile. “Welcome home.” He murmured, holding open a door for Jim. “This is the mixing room. This is where the boys sit while I sing, usually, unless we’re doing something crazy.”

“Looks like a lot of buttons I don’t understand.” Jim curled an arm around his waist and kissed his cheek. “Are they here yet?”

“I thought I’d come a little early so I could get some of my vocals laid down.” He explained. “We pitched Rhapsody to EMI, you see, but I fucking hated how I sounded in the copy we gave them, and they’ve decided they want the album. They’re paying by the day for us to get it recorded.” Freddie pushed open another door with his hip and wandered over to his piano, stroking his fingers over the cool wood. “This is my baby.”

Jim was in love with the gentle, mellifluous tone of his voice, without its usual dose of sexuality and lust; he seemed so earnest, so genuine, enthusiastic in a way he never saw business professionals, bankers, the woman who made his morning coffee. “She’s beautiful.” He replied, keeping his voice soft.

“Isn’t she just?” Freddie sat down at the piano bench and closed his eyes as he played a few chords. “She plays like a dream. David Bowie played this beauty, you know, and the Beatles.”

Jim grinned and stood behind him, drowning in the beauty of the music he played, a ballad by now so familiar. “I think you should show me how it all works.”

“Go into the other room and sit by the desk.” Freddie smiled, standing up and kicking a couple of switches on with his toe. “In front of you, there should be a red button and a blue button. Red to start recording, blue to stop. When I give you a thumbs up, hit the red button.”

His smile only widened as he obliged; just before the door shut, Freddie ran over to him. “It’s soundproof, so if you want to speak, you have to use that microphone.” He pointed through the glass. “Press the green button underneath it to turn it on and hold it.”

Jim kissed his cheek in return and Freddie blushed, laughing a little, as he walked into his recording booth. Without the music to listen to, he relied on his voice, his knowledge of his own song more than ever; he had the ambition to turn the little two minute ballad into an epic, more than they’d ever sold EMI, more than they’d given Capital, something fresh and bright and beautiful. “What’s your voice type?” Freddie asked suddenly, chewing on his thumbnail as he thought.

“Baritone, though I can stretch to bass. I can’t go very high, though.” Jim replied, propping his feet up on the table with a wink. “Why?”

“Do you want to be in my single?” Freddie asked with a sunny smile. “I’m about to pitch something fucking crazy, and it’ll sound better if I can show the guys what it might sound like with a couple of different voice tones. But I can’t mix for shit, and so I’d need you to sing with me.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “I thought the writing of Rhapsody was done?”

“So did everyone else.” He grinned cockily. “But I’m only getting started.”

* * *

“Wait, I- fuck!” Jim laughed, stumbling over Freddie’s feet as he went to stand beside him at the microphone. “It’s recording.”

“We definitely don’t have the tape for this.” Freddie grinned, cheeks pink with excitement. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He laughed, watching the count of Freddie’s fingers before he started to sing.

And though he had the pleasure of listening to his lover whenever he chose, though he had the pleasure of his fiancé’s talent as though he were a music box, there was still something about listening to his voice that left him awestruck; he watched the movement of his lips, glued to them as though he was in a trance, and only broke out of it when Freddie smacked his shoulder.

“You missed your cue!” He pouted. “Are you singing with me or not?”

“I am, I am, I’m sorry, baby.” He apologised quickly. “I got distracted by listening to you.”

Freddie rolled his eyes playfully. “Flattery.”

“It’s not!” He insisted. “You sound wonderful today, darling.”

“Well, if I sound so good, we ought to not waste the tape.” He laughed. “I don’t fucking know how to change it.”

“Of course.” He agreed, watching his fingers once more.

He thought that possibly the only thing better than listening to Freddie was the combination of their voices; they sounded so rich together, so gorgeous, his voice low and smooth while Freddie had pitched his a little higher - only after proving he could sing lower than him, of course. 

“Let’s listen!” Freddie took off his headphones, the ones he’d insisted he’d needed to not be thrown off by Jim beside him, and ran over to the door; he wrenched it open and dropped it in Jim’s face, too consumed by his excitement. He stopped the recording and wound back the tape before he pressed play, and then he froze.

Jim studied his face for a moment, the intense concentration as his eyes fluttered closed; he laughed, winded, as Freddie threw himself into his arms in the next moment. “It’s perfect!”

“I’m glad you think so.” Jim kissed his lips sweetly. “It’s good fun, isn’t it?”

“It is when people do what you say and make good music.” Freddie looped his arms around Jim’s neck and kissed him again. “You’re the perfect partner.”

“I feel like I’ve torn my throat open.” He laughed when Freddie pressed a gentle kiss to his Adam’s apple and kissed his forehead in return. “We sound good together.”

“I’m having you as my backing singer more often.” Freddie smiled up at him as Jim smoothed his hand through his hair, the bleach blonde standing out against the warmth of his skin. “Do you like the idea of an operatic section?”

“I think you do more with music than I had even considered was possible.” Jim admitted. “You’ve got the craziest little chaotic mind up there, and it works wonders.”

“Is that a yes?” He smiled cheekily.

“I adore it, darling. I just can’t believe you’ve written it all up there.” Jim tapped the top of his head. “You’re an incredible musician, aren’t you?”

“I try my best.” He grinned back, looking around quickly when the door clicked open and Brian walked through. “Oh, darling, you’re here!”

He arched an eyebrow as Freddie walked over to him. “Freddie Mercury, here on time?”

“Here early, darling, we’ve been working awfully hard!” He looked over his shoulder at Jim and smiled. “We’ve spent all morning on vocals.”

“We have?” Brian asked, looking between them and smiling. “Who’s we?”

“I’m Jim.” He introduced himself, almost a little shy, though he chastised himself for being so ridiculous. “Freddie’s fiancé.”

“And he’s a baritone singer.” Freddie boasted, happy and open in his adoration of his lover. “So he’s the perfect partner to record with.”

“With you having that much of a hangover?” He quipped with a grin. “Are you happy with what you’ve done?”

“Not that much of a hangover!” Freddie touched his face. “Yes, darling, I’m very happy with it. How could you tell I was hungover?”

“You exclusively only drink coffee when you’re hungover.” He shrugged with a smile. “Let me listen, then.”

“You’re going to love it!” He enthused, winding back the tape. “But firstly, you need to know that our little Rhapsody has gotten all grown up.”


	26. Cane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enemies only make them closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man! What a week! Thanks so much for waiting for this part! If it reads strangely, it's because I'm practically high on codeine from the amount I'm having to take (tl;dr I had to spend the whole of yesterday at the hospital because I decided to do a whole fluorescent and injure my ribs but at first they thought it was a heart attack - a very stressful experience!) and really I should've got this beta'ed but hey I didn't so forgive me usually I'm my own beta but I'm unreliable today
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me!

The first thing that had drawn Jim to his face was his inability to not be noticed; Freddie radiated luxurious, lascivious confidence, confidence that had the same burn as liquor on the back of his tongue. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it, from any of the package that came with a wicked wink and the turning up of just one of the corners of his mouth when he smiled; he couldn’t look away from the lipstick prints on the end of his cigarettes or the condom packets slipped into the inside pocket of his jacket, accidentally retrieved when he sought a pen. He couldn’t look away, nor would he ever want to: he couldn't imagine his lover without the energy, the excitement, the debauchery that dripped in equal measures from elegantly manicured fingers, irresistibly smooth legs, and a tongue steeped only in the best there was to drink.

He supposed it was why it was just so easy, even when he was in the midst of a conversation and his lover was behind the bar in a shirt so short that it exposed the cut of the muscles of his stomach, to see when the mask slipped.

Freddie didn’t bow his head to anybody, nor did he speak softly, nor did he ever aim to please; he pleased himself, his lover, never the men who came to bore him over the bar. His attraction was in his totally unwillingness to bend himself to the rules, preferring to serve everything with a cruel taunt instead of a sweet enquiry into somebody’s day, as though somebody like Freddie Mercury would ever give a fuck-

He stood up and loosened off his tie, watching his manner for just a moment; he stood still, his hackles raised, as though preparing to pounce. His smile turned a little fond - the last time he’d seen the same snarl in his lips, Freddie had been so off his face that he’d managed to get them kicked out of one of his own clubs - as he approached them, the tap of his cane on the floor louder even than the music that lay heavy in the air. 

He rested his hand on the bar, opening his mouth to order a drink, intending to interrupt the conversation, but his eyebrow raised at the sight of the man talking to Freddie. “Never thought I’d see you here.” He settled for instead. 

The man shrugged and raised his drink in a mock-toast. “It’s got to be healthy to suss out your competition sometimes.”

Jim chuckled with a slight shake of his head. “By harassing my staff?”

“Oh, darling, it’s all friendly.” He winked. “We were simply reminiscing.”

Jim caught the edges of the expression on Freddie’s face, somewhere between fear and anger, though he stood frozen in the moment. He dragged his eyes away from him and back towards the man in front of him. “About what?”

The man glanced at Freddie once more and then took a long swallow of his drink. “You can’t say you haven’t had a bit of him so far.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Freddie said, voice low and dangerous.

“He’s my boyfriend, as it goes.” Jim replied resolutely. “Is there a problem with that?”

He paused for a moment, simply looking Jim up and down, and then placed his glass back on the bar. “What’s the price of blow tonight, darling?” He asked, simpering his voice a little. “How about acid? Or, let me guess, are you onto the smack by now?”

Jim caught only the tiniest glance of Freddie’s aghast expression as his hand tightened on his cane. “I’d watch your fucking mouth if I were you.”

“Why?” He asked, pouting just a little. “If you’re such wonderful lovers, I’m sure you know this already. In the same way that I’m absolutely sure that you know he’s got one of the lowest charges in London.” He looked over at Freddie and grinned. “Back of car, doll, that’s your favourite. I’m sure you must’ve seen him on the street corners of Soho.”

Jim’s head reeled with the shock. “Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you think-”

“Who I think I am?” He replied curtly. “I’m warning you that your boyfriend’s a fucking whore who charges a tenner to get sucked off, and I’m warning him that you’re not some sweet-tempered fucking banker living off of Daddy’s money.”

Freddie leapt over the bar and grabbed him by the lapels, shaking with the rage as he shoved him up against the bar. “You fucking begged for it.” He replied, watching his face flush, and he raised his voice further. “You won’t fucking tell everyone that you got on your knees and fucking begged me for the chance to fuck me. You won’t tell everyone how much money you promised me because you’re too fucking sour-”

Jim watched as Freddie’s hand balled into a fist and smacked him in the side of the face; he didn’t even consider intervening. “You’re too fucking sour to ever get laid normally.”

Freddie let go, and Jim pressed the end of the cane to the man’s chest before he could retaliate. “If you lay a fucking hand on him, I’ll make sure I break every bone in your body.”

“Oh, real fucking scary. What do you think this is, a fucking fancy dress contest?” He grabbed the cane and pushed it away. “You can’t just dress the part and suddenly become the person you’re too fucking scared to be. As for you-”

Jim lifted the cane and smacked it hard against the back of his head. “I’d rethink whatever the fuck you plan on doing.”

He reached his hand into his hair, and he only felt pride when it came back wet with blood. “You’re like a scared little boy.” He spat back. “Trying to protect your whore boyfriend because all he knows how to do is spread his fucking legs?”

Freddie grabbed a bottle and smacked it against his cheek, shattering it with the force behind it; he stepped backwards as he fell to the floor and threw the bottleneck away. “I think you’ll find-” Jim kicked a little at his shoulder, listening to the airy groan that promised him he wasn’t dead, only miserably injured. “I’ve got more than enough money to pay off the fucking police.”

* * *

“I need a cigarette.” Freddie murmured as he stood in the middle of the street, the night quiet around him; he took one graciously from between his lover’s fingers and lit it with shaking hands. “What the fuck just happened?”

“I’ll start, but only if you explain too.” Jim offered. 

“Be my fucking guest.” Freddie sat on the wall of the garden closest to him, not caring who it belonged to in the suburb of London they’d found themselves in. 

Jim lit his own cigarette and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t earn all the money legally.” He said bluntly. “Have you ever heard of people getting on their knees to get to the top?”

“I know it a bit too well.” He murmured around the filter of his cigarette, barely taking breaths in between drags.

“Tom’s family got rich off of drugs.” He said simply. “Mostly acid. But they were branching out- they’re distributors, you see, they don’t sell, but they take a cut from the profits of every single dealer that depends on them. And I thought I could make coke into something, this was a few years ago now, before it got popular, but I thought they were the place to start. So I got on my fucking knees and I sucked off Tom, and he fell in love with me enough to get me into the business.”

“And then you sequester away the money in bank accounts in your father’s bank where nobody asks questions?” He asked, not surprised so much as intrigued. 

“Right. I became their touchpoint for distributing coke, and then coke got bigger than acid and I basically bought myself out of their business.” He explained simply. “And now I have a team of men down at the Docklands that run it for me.”

“I must admit, darling, I knew something wasn’t adding up.” He admitted. “You owned too much and too many people knew you. I figured it couldn’t just be banking and owning a couple of bars.” He paused for a moment. “Do you even do banking?”

“I really do. It’s the legitimate side of all the money. No one questions it when you get bonuses that are a couple of million a year.” He took a long drag and blew smoke at the moon. “Do you hate it?”

“I couldn’t give a fuck, darling, so long as it doesn’t get you killed.” Freddie’s smile softened a bit. “I’m not fucking scared of you either way.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever be scared of anybody.” Jim chuckled and kicked a stone along the road. “Go on, your turn.”

“I worked as a whore in Soho.” He replied bluntly, ashing his cigarette. “I blew men for money. Tenner for a blowjob, I was the cheapest whore this side of the Thames. It got me more clients.”

“Why?” He asked quietly.

“You’ve never been hungry.” He shrugged, a little defensive. “My sister would cry because her stomach cramps got so bad. And the money was so fucking easy, I could earn so much, and I considered it worth it when I could keep food on the table for a week just from one night’s work.” He waved his hand vaguely, unsure of what he was trying to illustrate. “Everyone knew I did it. My father used to say it made the food he ate taste dirty.”

“Your father knew you blew men for money?” Jim choked out.

“I couldn’t just magic money into the house, I had to earn it somehow. So I told them that I got men off for money, and then told them they had to spend it otherwise we’d starve.” Freddie shrugged. “It was especially bad a couple of months back, I had to work most nights to keep on top of bills and the like. But the men, they were all like you, too much money and not enough taste, but most of them had girlfriends three decades younger than them and used me to scratch their dirty little itch.”

“Christ, Freddie-”

“God, don’t fucking pity me.” He replied. “I got what I wanted out of it, I kept my fucking family alive. But they didn’t want me to keep doing it, and I wanted out of it as soon as I could, so I tried to find other jobs at the same time of crawling into dirty footwells of shitty cars. And a few weeks later I came to shovel your snow.” He threw the end of his cigarette on the floor and watched its dim glow. “So, there you go. Your wonderful boyfriend used to work as a whore. How undesirable does that make me?”

“Did you ever have sex with them?” Jim asked, cigarette paused halfway to his lips. 

“You’ve all got such single track minds.” He stood up and crossed his arms. “No, I didn’t, because I wanted to think that one day I’d get fucked by somebody who actually cared about me.” He studied Jim’s expression for a moment, and his own only hardened. “Fucking hell, fine, I’ll get my stuff and I’ll be gone by morning.” He murmured bitterly, walking past him.

“No- no, Freddie, no!” Jim grabbed him by the waist and pulled him as close as he could. “God, I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m sure I’ll ruin your reputation.” He muttered.

“Hey, listen- listen to me.” He turned him around carefully so that they were face-to-face. “I love you, darling, you know that. I don’t care what you had to do to keep your family alive. I didn’t care when I thought all those guys were one night stands, and I still don’t care if they were clients.” He said seriously, and then smiled shyly, trying to lighten the mood. “If you’re good enough to charge, I should feel very lucky.”

Freddie rolled his eyes, though a little fond smile broke onto his face and he swatted Jim’s chest lightly. “You really don’t mind?”

“Do you care that I lied to you about all of the money?” He countered.

“That’s not the same-” He started.

“I know it’s not. But if you can forgive me for my misgivings, I can forgive you for doing what you had to to keep your family alive.” He leaned forward and gently kissed the top of his head. “I don’t care if you’re clean as a whistle or dirty as mud, darling, it doesn’t change who you are. You’re still the same Freddie I met and fell in love with. It was just a shock, that’s all.”

“I wish I could say the same.” Freddie murmured, winding his arms around his middle and finally giving in to the feeling of comfort and security he got in his arms. “But I’ve always thought you might be some dodgy bastard.”

Jim chuckled. “A couple of my friends asked me why you never questioned people being so strangely subservient and nice to me.”

“I learned it’s usually better not to ask.” Freddie laughed with him, feeling as though a weight had lifted off his shoulders. “You know- even though I did that, you know I’d never sleep with someone else, don’t you? It doesn’t make me more predisposed to cheat, or whatever.”

“I think I’ll keep you all comfortable enough that you never have to do that again.” Jim promised, tilting his chin up and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Freddie smiled into it, allowing his eyes to close though he was cold and absolutely certain they were lost; he trusted his lover more than anybody to make sure he got home safe. He felt like the first man that had ever tried to understand him, his mind, his actions; he felt like the first man, the only man, that had tried to love him instead of his carefully curated image.

Fingers seized their counterpart, clinging on so tightly, and Freddie could only kiss him again and again and again to show his gratitude, it speaking by itself that he  _ loved him too. _


	27. Bombshell Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's told not to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this at the same time as Incandescent literally gives me whiplash sometimes I won't lie to you

“Darling, I look like a fucking whore.” Freddie laughed, standing in the middle of their dressing room with his hands on his hips; he wore a leotard of red sequins, biting irresistibly into his thighs, the hem of the chest dipping dangerously over freshly smoothed skin. In his left hand, he wielded the new scarlet lipstick Jim had bought him, a beautiful Givenchy rouge that he had yet to open- he held it between elegantly manicured fingers, only adding to the illusion of perfection. 

“You look fucking gorgeous, Freddie.” He breathed, coming closer and smoothing an appreciative hand down his side. “How can you tell me you don’t look good?”

“Oh, I do.” He smirked wickedly, his bare lips still wicked in their rosiness. “But this is designed for the stage, darling, I’d stick out like a sore thumb in a club.”

He crossed his arms and grinned, looking him up and down. “Not where we’re going to.”

Freddie quirked an eyebrow and came closer, unbuttoning the first two buttons of the maroon silk shirt he wore. “Don’t you need to get changed, baby?”

Jim guided his hands to unbutton him further, until only his bottom three buttons were left done up; he artfully tugged on the sides of his shirt until it sat lazily half-tucked, dispelling the day’s business formalwear. “Pass me my watch, darling, and a cologne, if you will.”

Freddie turned around and ran his fingers over the array of watches that sat in their holder, selecting the most expensive one- whenever Jim was in one of these moods, he’d learned it was time to show off. “Perfect, baby, thank you.” He took it, fastening it around his left wrist and appreciating the way the gold made his skin look warmer. “What cologne shall we wear?”

“I’m wearing the Tiffany.” Freddie told him, spraying under his jaw once again for good measure. “I like wearing the cologne your ex-fiancé bought you as an anniversary present.”

“I’ve never met somebody who loved being someone’s bit on the side as much as you did.” Jim grinned and took the bottle, drenching himself in the scent. “Although I much prefer being able to show you off.”

“You can’t show off someone who’s more established in your world than you are, is that it?” Freddie grinned and leaned into the mirror, tilting his face side to side. “Pass me the new lipliner, darling.”

Jim retrieved it from his vanity and handed it to him, watching as he traced the outlines of his lips. “Something like that.” He grinned.

“So this is another exercise in showing me off? Your blonde bombshell?” Freddie teased. “I hope that’s what you call me when you talk to all those big important friends of yours.”

“I usually refer to you as the baby in the middle.” Jim grinned, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “Because of your habit of being right in the centre of attention, darling, no matter where we are. Otherwise I call you the blondie.” He laughed into his ear, kissing just beneath it as Freddie finished his lipstick. “But no, darling, tonight I have a mission.”

“Which is why you’re dressed for business.” Freddie arched an eyebrow, watching his face in the mirror. 

“I’ve been taking you to all these places, darling, and all these people have seen you.” He murmured, kissing the curve of his shoulder. “And these people are talking about you, sweetheart, they’re wanting you. They’re hungry for you.” He grinned. “Hungry for the blonde with the curves. And so tonight, I want them to know that you’re mine.”

Freddie shivered at his words as he picked up a delicate wrist, watching as he snapped a gold band around it. “What’s this?” He asked softly.

“It’s a Cartier.” He replied simply. “It’s a love bracelet, and it matches your ring. It locks.” 

Freddie’s smile turned a little more shy. “A love bracelet?”

“I can’t be flaunting you around and expecting people to know you’re taken.” Jim grinned. “They’ll refuse to believe that somebody as pretty as you loves somebody like me.”

“Shut up.” Freddie rolled his eyes teasingly. “Surely all millionaires have pretty boyfriends?”

“I’ll keep telling myself that.” Jim smirked and pulled him into a kiss as he locked it. “I’ll keep the key in the jewellery box, okay? You can take it off whenever you’d like.”

“How much do these cost?” He asked, raising his wrist and looking at the elegant rose gold band.

“About six grand.” Jim chuckled. “But it’s a small price to pay when it looks so gorgeous.”

Freddie leaned up to kiss him, cupping his cheek indulgently. “And how much did the ring cost you?”

“Nearly two grand. You’re my personal project.” Jim chuckled. “They do the necklace, too, and a wedding band. You’ve got the engagement band.” He explained. “I’ll get you all of them.”

“They’re beautiful.” Freddie smiled and kissed him again. “I love you, darling.”

“I love you too, baby.” Jim grinned. 

“You know that man that told you I was a whore?” Freddie asked, his voice almost conversational. “Who is he?”

“Oh, he’s big in the acid scene. He used to work with Tom.” He shrugged. “He owns a couple of the clubs on Pall Mall, and he hates me because I forced him into selling his most profitable place to me.”

Freddie rolled his eyes affectionately. “Which one?”

“The Athenaeum.” He grinned. “Do you know it?”

“I knew a guy who worked as a topless waiter there.” Freddie chuckled. “I’ve never been in, but I used to work the patch nearby. It must’ve been when he still owned the place.”

“He paid for you more than once, then?” Jim asked curiously.

“I have secrets on that guy that could fucking ruin him.” Freddie smirked a little as he picked a packet of Treasurers from Jim’s pocket and lit one. “I let him fuck my thighs once. Do you know how much he paid for it?”

“You charged a tenner for a blowjob, so-” He hummed. “Fifty quid.”

“Four grand.” Freddie smirked. “He got on his knees to beg me to let him fuck me, and he promised me thousands if I let him, and so I asked how much he’d give me for fucking my thighs. And he started with a hundred, and he just let me push him up higher and higher, but I couldn’t take the piss, you know, so I settled for four grand.”

“You couldn’t take the piss?” Jim laughed. “What other secrets have you got on him?”

“Oh, the classics, women’s underwear and wanting me to piss on him.” Freddie rolled his eyes and took a drag. “And he knew this woman, he used to fuck her on the nights he couldn’t have me, and- God, I shouldn’t tell you this.”

“Tell me.” Jim implored immediately, eyes wide.

“He got her pregnant.” He explained quietly. “And she had a heart attack in his bed. But he got worried, you know, the police started noticing that she’d disappeared, and it makes me think it probably wasn’t a heart attack after all.”

“He’s probably killed more people than just her.” Jim swallowed.

“And he even went as far as to give me his work address, so that I could be on call to him all the time. He said that he’d sit in his clubs with these girls in his lap and all he could think about was me.” Freddie explained. “But I didn’t go, after I heard that story. I didn’t fancy having a heart attack.”

“His work address?” Jim’s expression turned sly. “Can you remember it?”

“It was in the West India Quay.” Freddie shrugged. “I can’t remember it all. Is that any help?”

“Oh, baby, you’re a fucking genius.” Jim kissed the top of his head. “I’m going to fucking destroy him.”

He quirked a curious eyebrow. “Why?”

“Why?” Jim repeated. “Because, my darling, some people deserve to be taken down a peg or two, especially if they’re going to go around giving out their secrets and then insulting the same people they once trusted.”

* * *

“Okay, listen.” Jim rested his hand on the door and watched Freddie’s curious expression. “Tonight, you have to be careful with who you play with. Because there are people in here who will just grab you and take you as their own, no chance for you to say no- you’re allowed to do whatever you have to, if you need to fight, then fight. You don’t have to stick to me, but make sure you show people the bracelet if they get too close to you, alright? They don’t like false pretences around here.”

“What is this place?” He breathed.

“Welcome to Heaven.” He grinned. “But not the club that you know.”

He held his breath as the door swung open, the warmth, the acidic taste in the air assaulting his senses; he breathed in the stench of debauchery, sweat, choking him and making his head spin. The strobe lights burned his eyes, the colours stripping the rest of the world of its vivacity- all there was to ground him was the warmth of the hand on his waist as he walked down the stairs.

Freddie knew he was beautiful. He knew, with the arch of his back at the right angle and a flutter of the eyelashes, he could have a man on his knees in seconds; he knew he caught the eyes of men even when he wore nothing suggestive. He knew he could walk out in front of traffic and make it stop; he knew that men would slide him drinks and pieces of paper, and notes would be left for him if he sat in a coffee shop. He knew, that when he was up on stage, it was an excuse for every man in the universe to admire the curve of his ass in tight trousers under the guise of his music.

But people didn’t usually stare.

Before he’d gotten to the bottom of the stairs, there were elbows shoved into sides, hands grasping shoulders, turning bodies already too drunk to stand; he became aware of the eyes of twenty, forty, maybe a hundred people watching him, listening to the click of his heels, deafening even against the onslaught of the music. They watched the way he glittered, lean body exposed to the strobe lights, and they sought out his truth: they sought out who he was, who had invited him, why he was there.

Freddie allowed himself to be pulled into a kiss, his hand cupping his lover’s cheek; his ring glittered in the darkness as a silence crossed the room, stunned, incredulous. “I’m going to the bar, darling.” Jim murmured, pressing another long kiss to his lips before he stood back. “Can I interest you?”

“Anything.” Freddie replied, starting to smile wickedly as the music grew beneath his skin; he closed his eyes for a long moment, finding the right state of mind, and then he walked.

More than one hand trailed the curve of his waist as he looked around, smirking slyly as he threw a wink over his shoulder; he felt drunk just on the atmosphere, the attention, and he began to dance.

* * *

Freddie wasn’t sure if they’d been there hours or days; he wasn’t sure how many drinks he’d swallowed - too many to count, he was sure - but he felt safe in the arms of his lover, wrapped so safely and securely around him. He’d always been a whore for attention, and to have so much of it, so concentrated, sent his head spinning; the knowledge that men watched him, men wanted him-

He’d also worked out the hierarchy.

He’d always known that there existed a hierarchy within these communities, trading people like property and property like people: there were men with more women, more men, and more money than others, bigger cartels, more expenses to flaunt, and there were the men that wanted to be just like them. He’d assumed Jim, at twenty-one, wouldn’t be so high up; he assumed that much of his status in the world outside came from the vast swathes of money to his name, and not his status within the community.

But people hadn’t stopped watching, staring, hungry and yet never daring to dive for Freddie like a bone held out for a dog; they restrained themselves, hungry and gnashing at their irons. Even when he stepped back, leaving Freddie alone, he knew he was safe amongst the onlookers.

Jim was  _ somebody,  _ not just anybody.

“Oh, dolly-” An unfamiliar arm wound around his waist, breath hot in his ear, and he shivered. “What do we have here?”

He’d been warned not to play, and yet he couldn’t stop himself: at worst, he figured, a fight. But if it played out how he wanted- oh, he could embarrass so many a man. “Whatever you think, sir.” He whispered, voice teasingly obsequious, and he caught his lip between his teeth.

“Whatever I think?” He laughed, voice rough, pulling Freddie’s back against his chest as he picked up a fragile wrist between his fingers. “Oh, how beautiful.”

“It’s a love bracelet.” He announced, tipping his head back onto the stranger’s shoulder to get a glance at his face: forty, maybe fifty, greying around the edges, smile made wicked with liquor, and oh-so-familiar. 

“I know what it is, baby. Half the men in here have one.” He replied, lifting Freddie’s hand further. “And the engagement ring. Who do you belong to?”

He arched an eyebrow and shook his hand from his grasp, turning to face him; his heart beat hard in his chest at the thrill of disobeying someone oh-so-important. “I don’t belong to anybody.” He crossed his arms defiantly. 

The man grinned back at him. “Of course you don’t, sweetheart.” He replied patronisingly. “You’re a tiny little thing, too. You haven’t been here long, have you?” He asked, reaching out to pinch his cheek.

Freddie smacked his hand away as hard as he could; he couldn’t resist the urge to push until he broke. “Are you saying that because I’m Indian?”

He faltered for a moment. “What?” He asked dumbly. “No, baby, it’s-”

“That’s fucking racist!” He turned away from him and walked a few steps, until a hand seized his wrist.

“Don’t fucking speak to me like that.” He warned, his voice lowering.

Freddie turned back, tilting his head up until they were eye-to-eye; he watched a look of realisation, and then one of horror, cross his face. “Or what?” Freddie smirked. “Are you scared of something I might say if I’m not frightened of you?”

“I won’t waste my time on a whore next time.” He muttered distastefully, looking Freddie up and down. 

“Is that the same whore that you tried to pay to pleasure your boyfriend?” He asked, raising his voice until people were staring once again. “The whore you tried to get to fuck him because you can’t get it up without a bit of blue steel?”

“You fucking-” He launched forward, trying to grab him, but Freddie jumped up on the table behind him; the startled hands of dealers created a safety blanket around his ankles.

“You think I’m scared of you?” Freddie asked, crouching down temptingly for just a second, smile wide on his face. “You think I’d want you? At least my boyfriend can keep me satisfied.”

The gun shone in the low light of the club as it was pointed at him; Freddie knelt on the table in front of it, biting the muzzle. His finger seemed to falter on the trigger, and Freddie only smirked as he kicked it back at him, before he walked onto another table, trying to get the attention of as many people as you could. “See, you told me you were a fucking coward.” Freddie grinned, stepping over piles of cards, bags of cocaine, and kicking over glasses as he went. “It’s all for show, darling, isn’t it? You don’t even fucking bother to keep it loaded, because the scumbags of London-” He was almost aware he was shouting as he walked, drunk off the adrenaline more than the liquor. “That’s what you called all the men you work with, didn’t you? Or was it the  _ fucking _ scumbags of London? Well, either way-” He stopped suddenly. “You said you weren’t scared of any of them, especially not-”

He spun around on his heel and pointed at a man - a man he’d never seen before, but he respected him more automatically for never soliciting him as a whore - and smirked. “Especially him. And that’s why you never carry a loaded gun.”

He jumped down when the stranger lunged over the table, watching with satisfaction the brawl that ensued behind him, some men seeking violence for the sake of the blood, others the chance to take out a long-held grudge. He brushed off his bracelet as he wandered over to the bar, admiring the stunned look on his lover’s face as he tucked himself neatly against his side.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Jim asked, his arm winding protectively around his waist immediately. 

Freddie shrugged playfully and kissed his cheek. “They should learn that they can’t talk to me like I’m the shit on their shoe.”

Jim rolled his eyes and smoothed his hand over Freddie’s hip. “What offended you so badly?”

“He asked who I belonged to.” Freddie stole a sip of Jim’s drink and smiled. “And I don’t fucking belong to anyone, darling, even if I am wearing the bracelet.”

“Of course you don’t.” Jim watched the developing brawl over his shoulder and chuckled. “You know, he’s in coke too. He’s got a bigger patch than I have, he’s all over south London.”

“Maybe you can make some advances.” Freddie smiled wickedly.

“Well, you just told his best friend that he thought he was a fucking scumbag, darling, so you might’ve just ended his career.” He leaned down and kissed him once again. “You’re a little bombshell, aren’t you? My bombshell baby.”

“Oh, I love that.” He purred, standing on his toes to wrap his arms around his neck. “I can’t help fighting, baby, I’m sorry.”

Jim narrowed his eyes playfully and twirled a piece of hair around his finger. “When I get a dead rat in the mail I’ll know who to thank.”


	28. Pink Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet night, and a loud day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you listen closely, you might hear thunder rumble in the distance...

The sun was far beyond the horizon by the time he came through the front door, frown fixed on his face and his mind in a whirl of numbers, figures, propositions. The day had been harder than usual, busier than usual, and he felt exhausted by it all, in desperate need of an evening off for once in his life-

He dropped his bag loudly by the door, rubbing his face tiredly as he kicked off his shoes, and then he paused as soon as he looked into the lounge. Freddie lay on the sofa, sleepy eyes half-watching him with a smile on his face, curled up in an old sweater of Jim’s that he’d left crumpled in a drawer on his side of the dressing room with Delilah laying under one of his arms; Jim rushed over to him as quickly as he could, a smile blossoming on his face for the first time that day. “Don’t you look comfy?” He smiled, throwing his jacket and tie over the back of the sofa.

“I could be comfier.” He smiled, holding out his hand for his fiancé. “Come here.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Jim picked up the cat and placed her on Freddie’s chest, laying beside them both and winding his arms around him. “I don’t suppose you’re in the mood to go out tonight?”

“I think I’m in need of some more gentle loving tonight, darling.” Freddie whispered, resting his head against Jim’s collarbone and closing his eyes. “Everything has been so hectic these past few days. I- I’d just like a quiet night today.”

“God, I love you.” Jim cuddled him close. “It’s like you can read my mind some days.”

Freddie beamed back at him. “I was in the studio most of the day. I haven’t had a nice lazy day like I was expecting.”

“Did you get much done?” He asked, pressing his lips to Freddie’s forehead and relishing in the feeling of the warmth of his skin against his own. “You know, sometimes I still can’t believe that I get to have this every day when I finish work.”

“I got a couple more songs’ worth of vocals down.” Freddie yawned. “I had to stop because my throat got sore, though, and we’ve got a show on Saturday so I don’t want to risk losing my voice. I found this lemon, honey and ginger tea that I bought from a coffee shop at Euston, that’s a miracle on my throat. I think I’ll have to take it when we’re recording tomorrow.”

“Euston?” He asked curiously. “What studio did you go to?”

“We were doing some work on Brian’s guitar, so we went to Scorpio.” He yawned again and snuggled down. “Sarm were booked up. We’ve nearly got the final song finished, I just need your help with the operatic section.”

“My help?” Jim asked curiously, kissing his forehead. “I thought you were finished with that?”

“It just doesn’t sound right.” He pouted and then started to laugh. “I liked your baritone. It sounds wrong without it.”

“If you would like me there, darling, I’ll be there.” Jim chuckled, brushing his fingers through Freddie’s hair gently. “I can’t believe you’re so committed and so dedicated to it all. You always put such long hours in, it would exhaust me.”

“I just get so excited, darling.” Freddie murmured, closing his eyes and settling down against him. “I’ve been writing another song these last few days, too. It’s like- now that I’ve reengaged that part of my brain, I can’t stop it from running and running. It wants to always be writing, or performing, or recording, it never wants to quieten down.”

“What’s the new song?” He asked curiously. “Is it too late to put it on the record?”

“Oh, darling! Far too late, months too late. It’s a shame, really, it would be perfect, but I suppose our next album will have the same atmosphere to it.” Freddie yawned and kissed his jaw. “It’s called Somebody to Love.”

“It’s all that romance whirling around in your brain.” Jim suggested, picking up his hand with his engagement ring and pressing a kiss to it. “All those emotions you’re not quite used to. Will you play it for me, baby?”

“I will-” Freddie yawned again and laughed as he rubbed his nose. “If you make me a cup of tea.”

Jim pressed a kiss to his cheek and held onto his hand a moment longer. “It’s a deal.” He agreed, his smile warm and happy. “I still can’t believe you asked me to marry you. Even more so, I can’t believe you still want to be with me after everything.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Freddie rolled his eyes. “You think I’d be frightened of you just because you deal cocaine?”

He shrugged and dropped another kiss on his nose before he stood up. “You’d forgive me for thinking that you might be put off by it if you were someone a little different, baby.”

“You should know me by now.” Freddie winked as he stood up and followed him, resting a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Hey, darling?”

“Hm?” He asked, kissing his forehead as he reached for mugs for the both of them. 

“I love you.” Freddie murmured, his voice softening as he rested his cheek against Jim’s shoulder, watching as he made them both tea. “And I’m really happy with you.”

Jim’s laughter was tired and full of warmth. “I love you too, my lovely. I believe I was promised a song.”

“You were!” Freddie stood on his toes to kiss Jim’s cheek and then walked over to his piano, stroking his fingers over the polished wood in a moment of reverence. “I’ll sing for you another time, love, my throat’s still a little sore.”

The milk poured all over the counter as Jim paused, entranced by the ebb and flow of Freddie’s piano, jazz in harmony with classical, playful and light and yet sweet and strong. He righted the bottle and turned to him, rushing over to him, leaving the tea abandoned on the side; his fingers clasped the side of his piano, curled next to the prop of the lid, and he watched.

He watched the curl of Freddie’s lips into a smile as he closed his eyes, playing up to the attention he was lathered in; he laughed when hands landed on his shoulders, rolling his head back and blowing a kiss at his lover.

“Can you play this at our wedding?” Jim asked hopefully. “Or can you teach somebody to play this so we can dance to it?”

Freddie’s fingers faltered on the keys. “Do you enjoy dancing like that?” He asked softly. “I always assumed you’d be far too hardcore for that.”

“You forget that I was schooled in all the rules of etiquette, darling.” Jim sat at his feet as he continued to play. “The rules of knives and forks, thank you letters, French, cursive, and ballroom dancing.”

“What more could I need in a man?” Freddie laughed. “We’re like chalk and cheese.”

“I knew that from the day I took you out for dinner and you ate your soup with a teaspoon.” Jim grinned. “And you shelled your prawns with your fingers.”

“Slander!” Freddie shrieked, his cheeks reddening with the strength of his laughter. “The fucking- fucking tongs, clippers- I don’t know what they were! I would’ve made more of a twat of myself if I’d tried to use them.”

“I’ll teach you for the next time I take you to that restaurant.” Jim leaned up and kissed him lightly. “And I’ll teach you to waltz, if you like, for our first dance.”

“I can’t believe we’re really getting married.” Freddie picked up his left hand and cradled it against his chest. “Do you want a big wedding?”

“What would you like?” He asked curiously. 

“I’d like a big wedding.” He admitted, his smile shy. “All the trimmings. I want to design the wedding cake, too, I want it to be huge.”

“You know I want a big wedding.” He grinned, wandering back into the kitchen, retrieving their mugs, and then brought them back. He leaned his hip against the piano and handed Freddie his mug, smiling into his own. “What kind of cake would you like?”

“Red velvet.” He said immediately. “Iced white, with pink sugar roses.”

“Oh, that sounds gorgeous!” Jim enthused. “I want to pick the outfits.”

“My body is in your hands.” Freddie grinned. “Can you do the flowers in the arrangement?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He agreed, blowing steam at the ceiling before he sipped at his tea. “God, how exciting!”

* * *

Freddie stayed a little quieter as he let himself be pushed behind Jim, the pad of his boots quiet behind his lover. He wore no lipstick that day, nothing revealing, no heels, allowing himself to blend in a little more; he had still grinned, however, at the eyes he’d caught on the tube on the way. He wore his bracelet, locked around his wrist in a symbol of his safety, and his ring on his finger, clearly speaking of a lover, a fiancé, a soon-to-be-husband.

The door swung open, Jim’s key unlocking it with one simple click, and Freddie held his breath as he stepped in behind him.

There weren’t many people to be seen, young men working quickly to cut, weigh, and bag cocaine by the gram; Freddie’s head spun with the difference between outside the doors, the docks quiet and cool behind them, and yet teeming with workers who talked quietly between themselves on their lunch break. Inside, the room was dark, but it was loud, men shouting from one to another, cacophonous, almost overwhelming.

“Fucking hell.” Freddie whispered, clasping Jim’s hand almost nervously as eyes turned to them, surveyed him, and then quickly looked away again. 

“I’ve got you, baby.” Jim murmured, though Freddie noted the lazy confidence in his voice, thick and rich in a way that only money and power could give him. “Welcome to paradise.”

Freddie followed him down the stairs, almost breathless at the sacks of cocaine around him. “Where the fuck do you get all this?”

“Oh, all around the world, but the stuff from Colombia sells the best. Londoners fucking love Colombian coke.” Jim grinned, lighting a cigarette and then handing it to Freddie. He walked over to one of the men working quickly to bag it up, watching the speed of his hands for a second, and then smirked. “How’s business today, darling?”

The man glanced at him for only a moment, before he looked back down at his hands, never faltering in his movements. “Good, sir. More recruitments today.”

“You see, baby-” Jim looked around at Freddie. “People want to work for me, because I’m not an asshole, and they don’t get killed. They get paid holiday, paid sickness, they get fucking maternity and paternity pay if they ask for it.”

“How do you make the money, then?” He asked softly, watching the movements of the man’s hands. 

“Because I can bring in more by having more people working. The more people sell for me, the more money I make, and the more I can give them. It works for everybody.” He grinned, stealing a drag from his cigarette. “How much did you earn last year, darling, working here?”

The man looked up again, stealing a glance at Freddie, and paused with a swallow. “About thirty grand, sir.”

“There we go.” Jim shrugged, looking smug. “Thirty grand. You wouldn’t get that in a bar, would you? Or a café, or a- a fucking part time job in a school, I don’t know. But here, I make people comfortable.”

“You’re making me jealous.” Freddie laughed, looking up at him with love behind his eyes. “Won’t you teach me how it all works?”


	29. Gunmetal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disagreements, solved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna slap a smut warning and a violence warning on this one for y'all!

“And you never fucking do anything to help me!” Freddie threw a cloth down on the counter and turned to him. “You never help me clean up, you never help me get everything done- don’t ask me when the last time was that you washed a fucking dish-”

“It was this morning.” He commented idly, arching an eyebrow.

“And you expect the Nobel fucking prize for science just for doing it!” He spat back. “This is your damn house, not ours- it’s yours, I can’t fucking afford it. But I- I am not your fucking home help, or another fucking housekeeper, I’m your fiancé and I’m not going to be treated like shit!”

“That’s not fair, Freddie.” He frowned. “I’ve just been busy-”

“So have I!” He said exasperatedly, crossing his arms. “But somehow I manage to not be a lazy bastard as soon as I get home.”

“Now listen-” He raised his voice to match Freddie’s, coming closer to him. “You fucking listen to me- you know I work fucking hard, and you don’t even know-”

He trailed off as he watched Freddie beneath him, pressed up against the counter, the biggest smirk on his face; he arched an eyebrow as he studied Jim’s face. “Watch that temper, big boy.”

Jim groaned and grabbed his cheeks, kissing him hard; Freddie seized a handful of his hair and kissed back, arching into the hands that hungrily roamed his body. He wound his arms around Jim’s neck, wrapping his legs around Jim’s waist as he was picked up and sat on the counter; he let his head fall back as Jim kissed down his neck, working marks into his skin. “You should’ve just said, baby, that this was what you wanted.” He smirked. “Just needed to work out some frustrations, hm?”

“Fuck you.” Freddie moaned, his whole body shuddering as Jim’s hand cupped him through his boxers. “I’m not-”

“We’ll talk about it later.” Jim murmured in his ear, watching the heavy weight of the pleasure as he thrust his hips up into his palm. “Don’t you want to have a little fun?”

Freddie gasped, his heart pounding with excitement as he was suddenly picked up; he couldn’t help the smile on his lips. “I suppose we can deal with it later.” He relented, rolling his eyes. “Play with me, darling.”

“There we go.” Jim threw him down on the bed, and Freddie squealed at the sudden feeling of weightlessness before he hit the sheets; Jim was suddenly grateful for his decision to wear so little as he watched the ripple of his muscles as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Strip for me.”

Freddie kicked his briefs off eagerly, hands reaching up for his lover; he grinned as Jim crawled over him, pressing another hasty kiss to his lips. “You know, darling-” Jim started, reaching over him for the bottle of lube on his bedside. “I’m worried that you’re still awfully frustrated. I’m worried that I’ve let you get all pent up and I haven’t let you work off anything.”

“Oh, darling!” Freddie rolled his eyes playfully. “You shouldn’t worry so-”

“Why don’t we work off some of those now?” He asked, gripping one of his ankles and pushing it back, kneeling between his thighs with a sly smirk. “I can think of some ways to calm you down.”

Freddie watched him slick his fingers, swallowing and canting his hips up eagerly. “What are you thinking?” He asked breathlessly.

He slicked Freddie’s hole with the pad of his thumb, watching the impatient wriggle of his hips, and then pressed two fingers inside at once. “You’ll have to find out, won’t you?” He smirked, kissing Freddie’s throat just to feel the moans against his lips. “How’s that?”

Freddie stretched his arms up above his head, clinging onto the headboard as he thrust and spread his fingers. “Needed this.” He gasped, throwing his head back as he pressed his fingers against his prostate. “Oh, fuck-”

“Are you bored of me being all gentle with you?” He grinned, kissing him hungrily as Freddie’s hands knotted in his hair, tugging eagerly. 

“I just need it a little rough, darling.” Freddie moaned breathlessly as he fucked him hard with two fingers. “I just need-” He cried out as he pushed up into his sweet spot again, legs trembling with the pleasure. “Please, please!”

“So you thought, instead of having that conversation with me, you’d act like a fucking brat instead?” Jim murmured, the threat low in his voice, and Freddie shuddered. “You thought you’d try and get me all wound up?”

“It worked.” Freddie smirked, cheeks flushed, and he whined in disappointment as Jim pulled out his fingers. “Come on, you bastard, fuck me.”

“Not yet.” Jim sat back on his haunches as he opened his bedside drawer, taking out a pair of handcuffs and dangling them from one finger. They were Freddie’s favourites, soft on the inside, never leaving any marks; he watched the swallow of his throat, the flush of pleasure over his cheeks, and smirked. “You know what to do.”

Freddie raised his hands obediently, watching the click of the lock as the leather wrapped around his wrists, the chain looping around the head of the bed. “Fuck.” He whispered.

“Too much?” He asked softly, running a finger under the cuffs to check their tightness. 

“No, no, fucking hell.” Freddie started to grin as he looked up at his wrists. “What else have you got planned?”

Jim stood up off the bed, searching a box under their bed and laying out a pair of nipple clamps and a vibrator on the bed. “Oh, fuck-” Freddie’s cock twitched against his stomach as he watched him pick up the clamps. “Are they for me?”

“Who else would they be for?” Jim asked with a grin, kissing the base of his cock, the head, his stomach, his chest, and his nipple. He took it between his teeth, smirking at Freddie’s sudden moan, the arch of his chest towards his mouth, and then kissed over the abused skin. “What do you say, baby?”

“Please-” Freddie moaned as he bit down again, harder, testing his boundaries. “Please, please-”

He picked up one end of the chain and grabbed the clamp, watching the way the gold bit into his skin; he moaned at Freddie’s reaction, his head lolling back, lips parted, eyes closed. “Oh my  _ God-”  _ Freddie gasped, thrusting his hips up against Jim’s thigh as he settled between his legs. “Jim-  _ ah!  _ Baby, please…”

“You want the other one?” Jim grinned, one finger dipping between his thighs to tease at his hole again, his mouth closing around his bare nipple while his other hand thumbed the one trapped between cold metal. 

“You’ll kill me.” Freddie moaned, pressing his body up against him to thrust his cock against his hip, to feel as much of him as he could.

“I’ve barely gotten started.” Jim smirked, watching the jump of his hips as he clamped his other nipple. “I’m going to teach you some patience, darling. And some fucking respect.”

Freddie swallowed hard, forcing his eyes to open against the onslaught of the pleasure and the pain. “Patience?” He asked.

Jim watched his desperate swallow for air as he pressed three fingers inside him, leaning down to kiss the moans from his lips as he rubbed them up against his prostate. “You’re not taking any warming up today, are you?” Jim teased, spreading his fingers easily and then laughing at the way he swore as soon as he thrusted them against his spot. “Think you could take me?”

“Please.” Freddie murmured, canting his hips up as best he could.

“Well, you’re not going to. Yet.” Jim smirked, taking the vibrator from beside them and slicking it with the lube. He lifted Freddie’s leg and pressed the head of it against him, kissing over one of his trapped nipples as he worked it inside him. “How’s that?”

“It’s good.” Freddie started to smile, relaxing as he kept the pressure away from his sweet spot. “Mm- really fucking good.”

“You look an absolute treat.” Jim closed a hand around his cock and gave him a few strokes, enough to make his cheeks flush with pleasure again; he couldn’t resist leaning down to take the head in his mouth, pressing his tongue against the head with a wink as he pushed the toy in to the hilt. 

“You feel even better-” Freddie told him, pushing his hips up into Jim’s mouth and smiling when he let him. “Oh, baby-”

Jim sucked his cock idly, fiddling with the vibrator until Freddie gasped and his hips went still. “How’s that?” He asked again, trailing the tip of his tongue over the head to clean up the precome he had leaked.

Freddie swallowed hard. “Intense.” He laughed, though it got caught on the cry that echoed when Jim turned the toy on. “Oh, fuck-”

The way Freddie’s hips rocked back on the vibrator made Jim groan, and he unbuttoned his slacks enough to get a hand around his cock. “Jesus fucking Christ, Freddie.”

“Please, darling-” Freddie turned his head into his bicep, moaning lewdly, and raised his legs up, spreading them as wide as he could; Jim had to squeeze himself hard to stop himself from coming at the sight of the vibrator inside him. 

“I’m going to leave it on low.” He told him, his voice strong and deep, trying its best to be steady. “The more you wriggle, the worse it’ll be.”

Freddie rocked his hips back again, hands tugging wildly at the cuffs, and cried out at the shift in the angle. “Fuck- fuck-” He panted, unable to stop himself from rocking against it again, and again, and again.

“Listen to me.” Jim hooked a finger on the chain between the clamps and Freddie’s eyes flew open as he tugged, his whole body trembling with pleasure. “You’re going to tell me when you’re close.” He said, swallowing hard at the sight of his face, so eager to please. “But not close enough that you come. I want you to wait until you’re right at the edge-” He leaned closer and kissed his lips, Freddie’s mouth slack against his as he pouted. “And don’t interrupt me before, okay?”

“What if I can’t get close?” He asked, arching up when Jim’s hand closed around his cock.

He arched a teasing eyebrow and gave him a few strokes. “You’ll get there.” He smirked. “Or you won’t be coming tonight.”

Freddie watched as he stood up and fastened his trousers again. “Where are you going?” He asked immediately. 

“I’m going to clean the kitchen.” He smirked, pressing his finger against the base of the vibrator to turn it up a setting; Freddie’s eyes nearly rolled back as he gasped on his moan.

“You can’t be serious!” He replied, the words caught on his moans. “I wasn’t really that angry.”

Jim just smirked. “Then you’ll learn, won’t you?”

* * *

He had taken his shirt off, but his slacks remained tightly fastened; the sound of Freddie in the other room, whimpering and whining his way through endless pleasure, had driven him crazy. Listening to the way his voice grew higher, his moans more desperate, the creak of the springs as he pressed his hips down against the bed: it was enough to make any man impatient.

“Jim!” He heard Freddie cry, his voice shaky and uneven; he couldn’t help if he jumped off the sofa a little quicker than his modesty would like to allow. 

“What is it, baby?” Jim asked, opening the door; he couldn’t help the growl at the back of his throat when he saw how wrecked he looked, covered in sweat, leaking onto his stomach. 

“I’m close.” Freddie swallowed hard, hips twitching towards the toy and then away from it; he could only imagine how sensitive he felt.

Jim started to smirk and unbuttoned his slacks, kicking them off along with his boxers; he wrapped a hand around his cock, satisfying the ache in his core, and stroked himself as he watched the heavy flutter of Freddie’s eyelashes. “Tell me what it feels like.”

Freddie gasped, clearly not expecting the question, and looked back up at him. “It’s- I’m so full.” He moaned. “It aches, darling- please..”

Jim groaned and leaned down, capturing Freddie’s lips in a hungry kiss; when he raised his legs, Jim pulled them back down flat. He grabbed the lube and slicked Freddie’s cock, Freddie watching with wide eyes until Jim straddled his hips. “You’ll kill me.” Freddie gasped.

“I won’t kill you.” Jim lifted his hips and slowly started to sink down on his cock, moaning with the satisfaction of the stretch. Freddie’s back arched off of the bed, his wrists fighting the cuffs as Jim’s ass sat flush against his hips- the way it made the toy press against his sweet spot was both heaven and hell. “Oh, darling-” Jim moaned happily, starting to ride him.

“Oh my God-” Freddie gasped, screwing his eyes shut and thrusting his hips desperately. “I can’t last- I- I-”

“You can come when I do.” Jim wrapped a hand around his cock and sped up the roll of his hips, letting his head fall back as the air was enveloped by Freddie’s hungry moans. 

“Please!” Freddie whined, thrusting his hips as hard as he could to help him along.

“You’re driving me crazy.” Jim moaned, his composure disintegrating as Freddie thrust hard into his prostate. “Mm- right there, baby, that’s it.”

Freddie’s hands grabbed the headboard and he thrust harder, swallowing air as he cried out; Jim’s hips pressed harder against his own, forcing the toy to hit deeper inside him. Jim leaned down, and Freddie’s eyes flew open when he saw his fingers on the chain. “This is going to feel incredible.”

The clamps eased off his skin and he groaned as the blood rushed back to his nipples, the pleasure of the tingle and the burn pushing him over the edge. He let out a series of high-pitched moans, the chain on his handcuffs echoing loudly as his hips stuttered- the force of his orgasm was mind-blowing, wave after wave of intense pleasure and pain, blurred so artfully that he couldn’t tell where one started and the other ended.

He lost himself to the pleasure, floating in the aftermath of his orgasm while listening to the lewd moans of his partner as he painted his chest sticky white; when his eyes were coaxed open, the toy buzzed weakly on the bed between his thighs, and Jim’s hand cupped his cheek warmly. 

“Angel.” Freddie murmured, his tongue heavy and lazy in his mouth, and he smiled instinctively when Jim smiled back at him and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“You had me worried for a second there.” He chuckled against his lips, pressing a few more kisses there before he hastily unlocked his handcuffs. “I thought I might’ve killed you after all.”

Freddie stretched out and then curled right up, as tightly as he could, his smile giddy and happy. “I’m cold.”

“I need to sort that out, then, don’t I?” Jim smiled and sat opposite him, using a warm cloth to clean his stomach, his chest, and between his thighs. He coaxed Freddie up to seated, just for long enough to bury him in a sweater, and then lay him back down again. “How’s that?”

“I love you.” Freddie responded, grinning wider when Jim laughed. 

“I love you too, sweetness.” He kicked the toys off of the bed, pausing only to turn off the vibrator, and then pulled him into a tight, warm hug. He pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, his nose, the corner of his mouth, and then his lips once again, and then tugged the blankets over them both. “Nice and warm?”

“Nice.” Freddie echoed, closing his eyes and settling happily against him. 

“You can rest for a little while, darling, but I’m going to take you in the bath in a bit. I don’t want you waking up sore and chafed in the morning.” Jim smiled, holding him close and tight to ensure he felt happy. 

“You’ll have to wrestle me in there.” Freddie yawned, and Jim grinned delightedly. 

“There he is!” He teased playfully, and Freddie laughed as he yawned and buried his face against Jim’s collarbone. “You know, I really did clean up the kitchen.”

“Good, you dirty bastard.” Freddie murmured, his voice muffled by his skin. “This is your house too.”

Jim laughed and stroked his hair gently. “I’ll employ somebody.” He kissed his temple lightly. “A cleaner. Somebody to tidy up our shit so we don’t have to.”

Freddie looked up at him, eyes bright and happy. “Did you seriously just fuck my brains out and then tell me I don’t have to do washing up for the rest of my life? Is today my birthday?”

Jim laughed harder and rolled his eyes, winding his arm tight around Freddie’s waist as he pressed his cheek to his collarbone again. “Do you think we can solve all our arguments like this?”

“Sex and throwing money at the problem?” He joked, settling down with a smile on his face. “You know, darling, we probably could.”

* * *

“You’re missing the syrup from the daiquiri.” Freddie explained simply, picking up a cherry and popping it between his lips as he worked to pour the drink. He had five pairs of eyes on him, boys from behind the bar, drinking every word he gave them as though it were their debauched gospel- he played up to the attention a little when he caught one pair of eyes fixated on his lips, and he winked.

His suit jacket had been discarded early in the night: Jim insisted he wore it for business, but he preferred the fine silk against his skin on the warmer March evenings. His shirt glowed red in the low light, the patterns drawn on in vermillion lost to the glare of the strobe lights, but the light from the ring on his finger shone ten times brighter. 

“What next?” One of the boys asked, watching as deft fingers measured and poured the liquors. 

“White rum for a twist.” He told them. “Half a shot’s worth. Too much and they’ll start to feel like they’re drinking a knock-off mojito.”

He lifted the shaker in both hands and smiled as his sleeve slipped down his arm, exposing his love bracelet to them all as he stood there-

From the way they stared at it, and then glanced over at Jim, he was sure they understood what it meant.

He looked up immediately when he heard a crash at the other end of the bar, quick enough to see a fist raised, a fist with a white gold illusion ring, cut with a solitaire diamond, worth £1,024, before the knuckles were painted red.

“Fucking hell.” Freddie muttered, jumping over the bar and pushing through the crowds that were gathered around the two men; when Jim looked up, he had blood smeared from the lobe of his ear down to the corner of his mouth, bright red against the pale skin. The man he fought must’ve been twice his age, Freddie considered, and twice the fucking size of him, and yet he fought valiantly. The smack of his fist made rouge marks blossom on his skin, reciprocated by marks that looked like they caused twice as much pain-

“Jim!” Freddie shook his head to force the stunned expression from his face and grabbed one of his wrists, pulling him back before he could land another punch. “Fucking hell, come on!”

“Speak of the devil.” The man smirked, watching Freddie for just a moment before he swung for him.

“If you want your balls to stay where they are, I’d suggest against that.” Freddie spat back, ducking easily and pulling harder on Jim’s arm, disgruntled when he pulled away and Freddie fell to the floor. 

“Jim!” Freddie shouted louder, surging up and grabbing his shoulder to pull him back. “I’m not letting you make a fucking idiot of yourself over whatever this is. Just- fuck, come here-”

He yanked him back and into the crowd, blowing damp strands of his hair from his face, made wet with the exertion. “It was about you, actually, dolly.” The man walked straight up to him and seized a handful of his hair, pushing him against the counter.

If he’d been twice the size of Jim, he was three times the size of Freddie, and yet he was crippled by a simple knee to the groin. “Beginner’s error, darling.” Freddie watched him on the floor and spat at him before he went back to Jim, sitting up on the bar and tilting his chin up to see the wounds on his face better. “Christ, he made a meal of you.”

Jim laughed and rolled his eyes. “Hardly. At least I’ll be able to piss tonight.”

“Oh, gross.” Freddie grinned, picking up a napkin and mopping the cut on his cheek. “I’ll do this properly for you when-”

He screamed when a hand seized the back of his shirt, throwing him off the back of the bar and onto the floor behind him; he groaned as his head hit the concrete beneath him, biting his tongue simultaneously, and then screamed again when a boot stamped on his arm.

“You bastard.” Jim grabbed the gun from the holster of the man who stood beside him and pulled the trigger mercilessly, hitting him just on the flesh of his shoulder, identical to where he’d injured Freddie. “You heartless fucking cunt, this has nothing to do with him.”

His fingers clasped the wound tightly, even as blood leaked through his fingers, standing still as though in shock. “Have fun with that one.” Jim spat, leaning over the bar and hauling Freddie up with his hands beneath his arms, though it made him groan in agony. “I’ve got you, darling, you’re alright.” He promised, never breaking eye contact with the man until he had slumped to the floor. He tossed the gun back to its owner, holding Freddie tightly as he carried him over to the entrance of the bar. 

He looked at a group of men in front of him, watching their reluctance to move, and arched an eyebrow. “I’d move out of the fucking way if I were you.” He threatened, voice low and deadly. “Because I won’t be so fucking nice next time.”


	30. Inner Workings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He begins to learn the ways of the business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thunder rumbling intensifies...
> 
> Fanart again by the incredible [@living_on_my_own_fm](https://living-on-my-own-fm.tumblr.com/) tumblr/ [@delphine_fm_](https://www.instagram.com/delphine_fm_/) Instagram - this is the scene from a few chapters back when Jim was drawing all over Freddie, and it's just the cutest!

The bed was soft beneath him, his hips cushioned by a feather bed on top of the mattress; the quilt over his shoulders was heavy, encouraging him to rest a little longer, sleep a little deeper. A heartbeat thrummed against his cheek, and when he reached out, his hand collided with bare skin, skin warm to touch, so soothing as he ran the pads of his fingers back and forth over it.

“Good evening, darling.” Jim chuckled, threading his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “Nice sleep?”

“This isn’t home.” Freddie murmured, his lips pressed to his chest, though his eyes stayed closed.

“No, it isn’t.” He smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “How’s that head of yours?”

“Sore.” He admitted, forcing his eyes open and looking up at his lover’s face. “Where are we?”

“We’re at the hospital, sweetheart. You took one hell of a whack to the head, and I wanted to get your shoulder checked out.” He explained, gently combing his fingers through his hair.

“What’s the damage?” He asked sleepily.

“Concussion, and-”

“Hang on, hang on.” Freddie interrupted. “Concussion?”

“You clearly don’t remember being sick right down the back of my shirt.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. “You threw up and then you passed out on me. I wasn’t risking you getting any worse.”

“Sorry.” Freddie whispered. 

“Don’t say sorry, baby! It’s not your fault at all.” Jim squeezed him a little and kissed his forehead again. “They managed to do a quick little x-ray of your chest and your arms, and you’ve not broken anything. Somehow.” 

“I thought my collarbone might go. It fucking hurt, that’s for sure.” He yawned. “This is a really quiet hospital.”

“It’s a private one. They don’t ask as many questions.” Jim chuckled. “Believe it or not, this is the A&E department.”

“The bed is far too comfy for that.” He laughed.

“Oh, you started out on one of those plastic pieces of shit, but we moved you over here when we found out that you were okay. I thought you’d want something a bit more comfortable.” Jim explained.

“I like this quilt.” Freddie let his eyes close again, lids heavy as he snuggled closer. “What was that all about?”

“Oh, he was just trying to make trouble with me. I shouldn’t have risen to it, darling, but he was calling you a tart- it’s fine when you call yourself that, you know, but I don’t like other men calling you those names. I don’t like it when they’re trying to degrade you. And- well, one thing led to another, as you saw. But he ended up a lot worse off than you did.” He smiled smugly. “Especially now that you’ve come out of it so well.”

“What did you do to him?” He asked sleepily. “I don’t remember anything after I hit my head.”

“I shot him.” He replied simply. “Not fatally, but enough to really fucking hurt. I got him in the shoulder, so I probably shattered his collarbone and his shoulder blade, and maybe his arm if I had an especially good aim.”

“You carry a gun?” Freddie questioned quietly. It was the first time, in all that they had experienced together, every little piece of his life that he had shared with him, that he sounded genuinely a little frightened; Jim wound his arms more tightly around him and kissed his head soothingly. 

“No! No, darling, I don’t carry one with me usually. I borrowed it from someone.” He said quickly. “I would carry one with me if I were going down to the docks, just in case, but I don’t just carry one around the streets of London. I don’t feel unsafe.”

Freddie nodded and swallowed, feeling a little vulnerable, as though the weight of the situation was beginning to come over him. “Am I safe?” He asked quietly.

“You are.” Jim said certainly, kissing his lips gently. “I’m not- I’m still learning, darling, how I can keep us both safe. I wasn’t in the same position with Tom, we weren’t so controversial, and I was most definitely under his thumb. Whereas- well, since I met you, since we got together, I’ve made a couple of advances in my own business and they’ve just so happened to coincide with showing you off.”

Freddie nodded, curling up smaller. “I don’t give a fuck if people call me a tart, darling, I’d really rather you didn’t get into gunfights over it.”

“I just don’t like people making assumptions about you and trying to drag you through the mud.” He admitted. “I know that you’re not shy about people knowing about your past, I know you enjoy getting all dressed up and showing off, and I love that about you. But that’s your story to tell, it’s nothing to do with them, and it fucking pisses me off that they think it’s okay to talk about you like that.”

Freddie started to smile again and rolled his eyes a little. “Baby, you’re so fucking dramatic.” He laughed. “Who cares if a loser calls me a tart? He’s not wrong.”

“It’s nothing to do with them.” He repeated, though he relented a little. “I’ll try not to fight when you’re around, darling.”

“I’d rather you just didn’t fight at all.” Freddie leaned up and ran a thumb over the bruise on his cheek. “Otherwise I’m going to need to get a fucking nursing degree.”

“The doctors here have sewn me up, sweetheart, that’s not your job.” He chuckled, tilting his head up so that Freddie could see a line of stitches under his jawline. “The bastard got me with a knife.”

Freddie tutted, kissing the end of his chin, as close as he dared go. “Didn’t they tell the police?”

“I told them that we weren’t pressing charges. You don’t use police in this world, unless you want to end your entire career.” He chuckled. “If I reported someone for assaulting me, I’d also be reporting myself for possession with intent to supply, grievous bodily harm, and money laundering. I’m sure that they’d ladder a few more charges in there for good luck, too.”

“I’d probably never see you again.” Freddie mused, running his fingers back and forth over Jim’s bare stomach. “You know, I really had no idea I was getting myself in for this.”

“Do you regret it?” He asked softly. “Honestly, baby.”

“No. No, fucking hell, I don’t regret it in the slightest.” He grinned. “One day I’ll make enough money so that you can buy yourself out of your own business, and then we can retire somewhere lovely and sunny.”

“The Maldives.” Jim suggested with a grin.

“Hawaii.” Freddie laughed, leaning up to share a kiss with him. “Darling?”

“Hm?” Jim responded, distracted by the love on his lips.

Freddie pushed him away a little, until their noses brushed and he was almost cross-eyed trying to focus on Jim’s face. “Should I get my nipples pierced?” He asked, his smile both shy and naughty.

“Freddie!” Jim rolled his eyes playfully. “I don’t know, do you think you’d come as soon as they pushed the needle through?”

Freddie smacked his shoulder, though his cheeks had reddened noticeably. “I think it’d be hot.”

“Then do it, darling, I wouldn’t be complaining.” Jim chuckled, sitting upright and pulling Freddie up with him. “How’s your head?”

“Couple of ibuprofen and I’ll be good to go.” Freddie smiled sweetly, watching as Jim shrugged on his suit jacket. “What happened to your shirt?”

“Your fucking vomit, Freddie.” He took his hand and helped him stand. “Still good?”

“Still good.” Freddie agreed, grinning when Jim helped him into his favourite fur coat. “I didn’t wear this out.”

“No, but I had one of my guys get it from home and bring it for you. I thought it’d probably be fucking cold, seeing as it’s-” He squinted at the clock. “Half past five in the morning in March. And you are truly terrible at dealing with the cold.”

Freddie rolled his eyes and tucked himself under Jim’s arm, leaning up to kiss his jawline. “Now you're telling me you've got fucking minions, darling, is there anything you don't have?" He laughed. "Thank you for fixing me, baby.”

Jim pecked his cheek as they walked over to the reception desk. “My pleasure, darling. Don’t frighten me like that again.”

* * *

“This shipment is a day late.” Freddie pointed to a pin on the map on the wall and turned back to Jim.

His feet were propped up on the old hardwood desk, a book of figures, sales, estimations and calculations that he was trying to balance in his lap; he scanned down the page and underlined a date in pencil. “It was due March the seventeenth.”

“It’s March the nineteenth.” Freddie said quickly, his smile widening. “I promise, because I’ve got a gig tomorrow night.”

“You haven’t stopped talking about it, baby, I know. I trust you.” Jim laughed. “Okay, baby, can you grab me that folder over there?”

Freddie dragged a chair over to the bookcase and kicked off his platforms before he clambered on, reaching down a binder from the top shelf and handing it over. “What’s all this about?”

“I fucking love having you in my office in your damn socks.” Jim laughed, pencil caught between his teeth as he admired his lover. “You look really cute.”

“Answer my question!” Freddie laughed, sitting himself up beside Jim’s feet and taking the tea-tray from his assistant. “Thank you, darling.”

“Oh, you’re so polite, with your pleases and your thank yous.” Jim teased.

“So are you! My mother talked about your manners for weeks the first time she met you.” Freddie swatted his knee. “Answer my damn question!”

“You’re going to make a phone call.” He replied simply, leaning forward to pour them both tea. “To the supplier who is two days late on their order. You’re going to explain to them that they’re late, and you’re simply enquiring as to why that is, and how we can remedy that.”

“Do I- like- threaten them, or something?” He asked nervously.

“No. No, you see- this is why I get to keep all my suppliers, and I poach them from other people. I don’t threaten them with violence, or with losing money, because their riches is fucking pennies, quite honestly - I just tell them that they’ve got two days to fix the problem before I consider dropping them from the business. More often than not, they’ll have remedies of their own that I’ll take.” He said, lighting a cigarette using a match from the jar on his table. “I schedule all of my orders two weeks ahead, because international shipping is notoriously dodgy.”

“So just ask them how they intend to fix it first?” Freddie repeated, hand resting on the receiver of the phone. 

Jim’s hand rested over his own, stopping him from lifting it immediately. “And you tell them you’re the secretary, okay? That’s your authority, they’ll check.”

“I’m not your fucking secretary.” Freddie replied, offended. “You said you’d teach me as an equal.”

“I know you’re not, baby.” He replied soothingly, leaning up and kissing him to placate him. “But if the police have managed to tap these lines, they can take me down with them, but we don’t name you. If you’re just ‘the secretary’, then the police can’t prove it’s you, and you have no affiliation with me outside of business. If both of us go down, who the fuck runs the business?”

Freddie thought it over for a moment before he nodded begrudgingly. “What language do they speak?”

“I speak to them in English.” He shrugged. “It’s a bit broken at times, but it’s manageable.”

“No, but what language do they speak well?” He persisted. “I might know it.”

“What can you speak?” He asked curiously.

“Hindi, Bengali, Swahili, Spanish, and French. And English, obviously.” Freddie told him, sipping a mouthful of his tea. “Would they speak any of those better than English?”

“Try Spanish.” He offered. “Why do you know that?”

“International English schools teach you all kinds of shit you don’t need to know.” Freddie smirked as he picked up the receiver again, diligently tapping in the phone number, and he winked when the line clicked.

* * *

“These men here-” Jim pointed with the end of his cane at a group of men who worked quickly, fingers a blur as they cut and weighed and packaged. “They’re in charge of cutting each batch. When it gets processed into a paste in Colombia, it already has different purities- some of the guys douse it in fucking petrol to process it, while some leave it more raw for us. So the shit stuff gets cut to forty percent, whereas the good stuff gets cut at ninety, and we can sell that for three times the price on the street.”

“Who buys the shit stuff?” Freddie asked, watching their fingers closely.

“Students, and addicts without the money for the good stuff. Sometimes we throw them a bag of ninety-five percent for a forty percent price, because business absolutely booms if someone trips fucking balls and word spreads that they’ve got good shit for cheap. Most kids will pretend to trip even if it’s more fucking caffeine and creatine than coke.” He grinned as he glanced at Freddie’s face, his enthralled smile. “We control the areas around a couple of the big universities, UCL and Birkbeck and SOAS area, and Imperial, and Goldsmiths, and King’s College, too. We fucking fought for King’s.” 

“And how much do you sell by?” He asked.

“Gram bags, usually, sometimes wrapped in lottery tickets.” He shrugged. “It’s a stupid trademark I started doing so people knew it was my shit, but I’ve had a couple of guys win a few thousand on those tickets. Makes them come back for more.”

Freddie laughed and turned to him. “Who buys the good stuff?”

“People like me, out in the real world. Bankers, finance analysts, doctors on their night off. Even a hairdresser on a good night will go for a bag of it. We sell a lot of it in clubs, too, when people are really fucking drunk.” Jim grinned. “But we don’t worry too much about that. You focus distributing the good stuff to the dealers in the right areas, around King’s Cross and in the City, and out near where we live in the good bit of Kensington and Chelsea. Everyone else gets a range of coke at forty, seventy, and ninety.”

“Okay.” Freddie agreed, making a mental note of all the expertise Jim had harnessed over his working life. 

“You’re like an intern.” Jim laughed, winding his arm around Freddie’s waist and kissing his temple. “I’m glad you want a part in all this.”

“I don’t think I could really be in your life if I didn’t want to be a part of all this.” Freddie said honestly, running over to a set of stairs and sliding down the bannister with a grin on his face. “But I do!”

“Why do you?” Jim grinned, following him.

“Why?” Freddie repeated, considering the question for a long moment and then grinning. “Power, darling, reputation. You know I’m a whore for the thrill of attention.”

“You’re going to help me build an empire while you take down the others with a curl of that wicked tongue?” He teased, leaning down and kissing him deeply. 

“I think I should go back to the whoring for a while. You’d be surprised the secrets you can trade for a decent blowjob in the back of a BMW.” Freddie grinned. “I could ruin them. All with your permission, of course.”

“I’d have to wait until I was incredibly desperate, and possibly on the brink of a criminal investigation and losing the rest of my life to prison, to even consider that offer, darling.” Jim said seriously. “You don’t really enjoy it, do you?”

“I enjoy the power.” Freddie shrugged nonchalantly, but Jim could see through him, even as he turned away.

“Then we’ll give you some more power, how about that?” He grinned, resting his hands on his waist as he caught him from behind. “Let’s start with tomorrow night.”


	31. Debit Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plea for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My eyes have literally gone sticky from staying up to write this but yay Bout is back!
> 
> I'm very sorry it's been so long - I've been having such horrible migraines recently that looking at my laptop screen has been causing a lot of pain, but today I pushed through and got this out!

The moon cast shadows on the hardwood floor, dark like graphite with silver highlights where the light still faded in, leaking around corners and sneaking over the edge of the curtain rail. The hand of the clock had been creeping its way around the room that night, artfully avoiding adding any seconds or minutes to the time; though the sky had grown darker, and though he had grown lonelier as the morning came closer, the clock had refused to add even an extra minute to the time. 

After spending so many nights wrapped up with his lover, cheeks to chests and hands grasping waists, the bed felt too cold and empty without Jim’s body beside him, loving him, keeping him safe throughout the night. He had wandered from room to room, never bothering with lights, his socks quiet on the floors as he padded long corridors and kitchen corridors; he had taken tablets to soothe his headache, another to combat the fever that had flushed his cheeks red and left him in the house all night. 

He leapt up when the phone rang, another round of coughs juddering their way through his body, and seized the receiver. “Hello?” He asked sleepily. 

“Freddie?” Jim’s voice was urgent and he rubbed his eyes, trying to wake his brain up. “Freddie, are you there?”

“Yes, yes, darling.” He replied with a yawn. “Where are you?”

“Fucking hell-” He sighed. “Freddie, I got done for possession.”

“Wait, what?” Freddie’s eyes widened and he swallowed the lump that formed itself in his throat. “Where the fuck are you?”

“City police station.” He muttered, keeping his voice low. “They’ve got a warrant on the flat, Freddie, they’re going to come and fucking search it.”

“Shit.” He whispered. “What- what the fuck?”

“I’ve got money under the bathroom sink.” He told him quietly. “I don’t know if they’re posting bail, but if they are, I need you to bring it for me. I need you to grab your shit and go to your parents’, like you’ve never been there, or they’ll get you as well.”

“I’ve got nothing to do with this!” He squeaked.

“They’ll frame you.” He muttered. “They tapped the office phone, they heard your conversation, but they don’t know it’s your voice.”

“Fuck.” He covered his mouth with a trembling hand. “How am I supposed to support myself?”

“Take the key to the docks. However much money you need, I don’t care, take it out of the safe. I need you- I need you to go back to how you were, darling, the music and the job at the bar, I need you to get that money to me and then I need you to pretend I never existed to you.” He said urgently.

“Jim, I-” He whispered, his voice growing hoarse with the weight of the sadness in his chest. “Jim, please, don’t leave me like this-”

“I can’t help you.” He sighed, and Freddie bit his lip to stop himself from crying. “I just need you to do it, baby, and I- I’ll come and get you as soon as I can.”

* * *

He felt none of his usual confidence as he swept his hair back from his face, his fingers leaving marks like lines from a rake in amongst the sweat and the grease; it felt like a thousand years since he’d sat in his lover’s lap to brush his teeth, exhausted and miserable. He didn’t feel confident when he slicked his lips red, when he shrugged on his fur jacket to stop himself shivering through the late March night, though the touch of the fabric against his skin made him break into a sweat again; he didn’t even feel confident as he powdered his face, red from panicked tears.

_ Playing with fire only ever had one outcome. _

Jim’s debit card burned a hole in his palm as he seized it tightly; even as he’d looked around at the fifteen thousand pounds in tens, twenties and fifties that littered his bathroom floor, he’d known it would never be enough. He was expecting fifty thousand, maybe a hundred thousand, maybe more to let somebody go who was such a flight risk, who had the money to make sure they were never seen again.

He caught his reflection in the front window of a fish and chip shop as he walked past, and caught the eyes of a group of men who watched him; he cursed himself and pushed his shoulders back, walking as confidently as he could, forcing himself through a series of deep breaths, not panicking, not allowing himself to be overwhelmed by the situation as he pushed open the door to the police station.

“Hi-” He started, putting on the thickest accent he could as he walked over to the desk, the same accent he’d had in the days before he had started speaking English fluently, in the days when he’d spent his time singing in Bengali. Somehow, he felt it was sensible to be somebody else that evening: it was in his best interests to be someone new, different, untraceable. “I’m here for Jim Hutton.”

The police officer looked him up and down and arched an eyebrow. “And you are?”

He paused for a long moment, wetting his dry mouth. “I- I have brought him some money. I was advised he might need it.”

“Advised by who?” He asked, clearly bored, as he tapped his pen against his notepad. 

“My boss-” He lowered his voice a little, as though confiding a secret. “My boss is his lover. He asked me to do this instead of going to work tonight.”

“Where does your boss work?” He yawned. 

“The Garrick club.” He lied- not one of Jim’s, he was sure. “Covent Garden.”

He looked Freddie up and down again, a knowing smile crossing his face, and he arched his eyebrow. “I see. Well, we have to watch all interactions, you understand.”

Freddie was more than willing to allow himself to be seen as a rent-boy for the evening; there was anonymity in whoring. “Of course, sir.” He whispered, obsequious. 

“Join the queue.” He gestured to a line of people waiting along one wall, perched at intervals along a bench, a few flicking through the Standard from three nights ago and others counting the ceiling tiles. 

Freddie stepped over, conscious of making his shoes as quiet as possible, and sat demurely at the end of the bench, resting his hands on his knees. He tapped his foot agitatedly as the minutes began to crawl again, the discomfort and misery of his fever washing over him again as the adrenaline wore down, and his eyes started to close of their own accord-

A shoulder nudged his and he blinked his eyes open quickly, looking at the man next to him; younger than him for sure, sixteen or seventeen at the oldest, dark hair cropped close to his skin, and wearing a badge with a pink triangle on the lapel of his jacket. “Cigarette?” He offered, holding out a packet of Marlboros to Freddie.

It wasn’t their usual Treasurers, but his hands were trembling and he’d take anything for the kick. “Thanks.” He murmured, letting him light it with the end of his own and taking a long drag.

“Forgive me, but I can’t tell if you know someone who’s in here or if you’re the criminal.” He quipped, awfully confident, and Freddie quirked a pleased eyebrow. 

“I’m definitely the criminal, darling, but they haven’t worked that out yet.” He smirked, shrugging a little bit. “No, my darling boyfriend is a fucking idiot, that’s all.”

“I’m here for my boyfriend, too.” He gestured to the badge with a little knowing smile. “What’s yours in for?”

“Possession.” Freddie murmured in his ear. 

The boy looked back at him with wide eyes, and Freddie didn’t like the expression he wore. “Mine too.” He replied, turning a little white. 

His expression went from friendly to sour in a fraction of a second. “What’s his name?” Freddie asked quickly. 

“I-” He stammered nervously. “It’s Jim- Jim Hutton.”

Freddie stood up, his blood fizzing in his veins, and walked towards the line of cells in the corridor beside them; a police officer grabbed his arm to stop him, but he shook himself free. “Don’t worry, darling!” He laughed maniacally. “I’m on your fucking side!”

Freddie walked down the row, looking in each window as he went, still clutching the cigarette between his fingers. “Come on, you fucking coward, come out! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Freddie?” Jim came up to the door, pressed as close to the window as he could get. “Oh, Freddie, baby, I’m so glad-”

“Do you do this with all your fucking boys?” Freddie spat, pointing his cigarette at him. “Do you get off on the young ones? Do you get off on manipulating little fucking boys in poverty, because you can make them think you’re so fucking special by waving a wad of money around?”

“What?” He asked, laughing a little in his shock. “Freddie, darling, I don’t-”

“Don’t fucking darling me.” He shouted back. “Did you think this would be a fun test, hm? See how many of your whores you could get into a room together, and then see who stays loyal to you? Is this a fucking game to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He replied.

“Bullshit! You talked about your other boys, and I thought you were fucking joking.” He shook his head. “How many have you got? Ten? Fifteen? How many of them do you fuck while they beg you to let them take my place?”

“Freddie, this is ridiculous-” He insisted.

“How many of them have these?” He took Jim’s bank card and held it in the air, and the tension between them grew thick as Jim watched him. “Oh, oops, my mistake. This one’s yours.”

“Freddie-” He warned.

“Is this like a part of the membership to some shit club I didn’t know I was a part of?” He asked, holding it up to the window. “You bounce on his cock once, and you get access to a whole load of funds he uses to keep you happy. You know what-” He seized either side of the card in his hand. “You can get fucked.”

“Freddie, don’t.” He barked, resting his hand against the window. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“What are you going to do about it?” He teased. “You won’t be such a big man without it, will you?”

“Don’t- don’t you dare!” He shouted.

And though the sound of the snap was quiet, it seemed to deafen them both; they stood in stunned silence for a moment before Jim’s hand slammed against the door again, the sound echoing throughout the corridor. “Fuck you!” He shouted. “You mad fucking bitch!”

“I’m your fucking fiancé, if you’d forgotton!” He yelled back. “While you were too busy fucking other men! And that means-” He threw both parts of the card on the floor. “I’m legally entitled to what is half of yours. And if you’re in prison for the next hundred thousand years-” He rested his finger on his lip and pretended to think. “Well, I suppose you won’t be running your business, spending your money, or living in that damn lovely house anymore.”

“Fuck you.” He spat again. “I thought you loved me!”

“I thought I did too!” He laughed hysterically, turning away. “I fucking thought I did, darling, but I don’t fuck with men who only answer to their damn cocks.”


	32. Blue Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows where to turn to.

“I hope you’ve got a beautifully decorated spare room.” Freddie muttered, hauling his suitcase from the taxi on the kerbside and throwing a fifty in the direction of the driver; Jer stared at him, cigarette pressed tightly between his lips and hair scraped back with grease, as though he were an alien, not her own son. “I need a place to crash for a few nights.”

“Freddie, darling-” She pulled him close when she saw the tremble of his fingers and he wound both arms around her, throwing his cigarette down to smoulder on the pavement next to the front door. “Darling, what happened?”

The weight of the world crashed upon his shoulders as he dropped his bag, resting his head against her shoulder; he had so many words, words of anger, words of disappointment, words that were simply upset. And though they whirled in his mind, the only words that came to his lips were the same ones that he could’ve said sixteen years ago, bundled in blankets in his parents’ bed-

“Mama, I don’t feel well.” He whispered, eyes heavy with tears as he let his guard fall, watching it smash into tiny fragments like shattered glass on her carpet. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” She murmured lovingly, hugging her boy tight as though he were six again and off school with a tummy ache, as though he wasn’t three inches taller than her in the ridiculous platform boots he wore. “Come on, darling, take your shoes off. I’ll make you a cup of tea, how does that sound?”

“Good.” He agreed, kicking off his shoes and leaving them in a heap on her doorway; he let himself be maneuvered into their lounge, and straight into the arms of his father as he landed on the sofa. 

Bomi smiled warmly at him, holding out an arm on his free side and grasping a blanket with the other. “Why don’t you come here, darling?” He said gently, smiling wider when Freddie cuddled up to his side. “Tell your old dad what’s happening.”

“Jim cheated on me.” He whispered, and immediately burst into tears. “I thought- I thought he was the one, Papa, I thought he loved me, I thought- I thought I was enough, I thought he loved all of this-” He gestured angrily to himself and curled up smaller. “But it was too much, it’s always too much, too much effort for someone who’s not fucking normal.”

“Him cheating on you doesn’t tell me anything negative about you.” He replied softly, gently running his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “It tells me he doesn’t appreciate you.”

“We were engaged.” Freddie whispered. “I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d be angry at me for rushing it. But we- I was going to be married, Pa. And we were going to have a big, lovely wedding, and I- I thought we’d be together forever.”

“Forever is a long time for someone who doesn’t deserve it.” He murmured meditatively, resting a hand on Freddie’s forehead. “You feel awfully hot.”

“I feel like shit.” He muttered, resting his head into his cool touch. “I’ve had this fever for days and I can’t break it, I can’t sleep, I’ve been all on my own because Jim got himself fucking arrested and I won’t buy him out because he doesn’t fucking deserve it-”

“A cup of tea, and a glass of water, and two of these.” Jer dropped two tablets into his palm. “Belladonna and ibuprofen.”

“Mama-” He started.

“I’m not hearing anything of it.” She smiled. “Come on, be a good boy and take your medicine.”

A reluctant smile crossed his own lips and he wiped his eyes, before he swallowed down both tablets. “You and your remedies.” He murmured, though his voice was full of love.

“I’ve kept you alive so far, haven’t I?” She teased, kissing his forehead gently. She sat down beside him and tucked the blanket over his shoulders, stroking her thumb over his cheekbone gently. “Why don’t you take a little rest, malus? I’ll run you a bath when you’re a bit more awake.”

He took a long, slow breath and nodded, letting his eyes close. They reopened for just a moment as his father arranged a cushion between the rough material of his slacks and his son’s cheek, and they closed once fingers had found his hair again; for the first time in days, he could breathe.

* * *

“Is he okay?” Jer asked gently, resting a hand on her husband’s shoulder to help her balance on her toes as she glanced over his shoulder.

“He’s heavier than I remember.” Bomi chuckled, a soft click reverberating off the walls as he pulled the door closed. “He’ll probably just want to sleep it off. I’ll get the doctor to come and check him over in the morning, just to be on the safe side.”

“I’m a little worried about that cough.” She admitted, following down the hallway and frowning when he grabbed his jacket. “Darling, it’s getting awfully late, where are you going?”

“I’m wondering if we might be able to coax him into eating if you make him some khichdi.” He smiled warmly back at her. “But we’ve barely got anything in the cupboards, so I’m just going to pop to the shop to grab what we need.”

“Okay, darling.” She agreed, smoothing down his collar. “I don’t suppose you could get me some bryonia, could you? It might help soothe his cough a little.”

“Of course.” He kissed her forehead gently and took his wallet and his keys from the counter. “I’ll have to go a little way out to actually get to a market that’s open this late, though, darling. I might be home late.”

She nodded and hugged him briefly, before she gently let go of his hand. “I love you.” She said earnestly.

“I love you too.” He smiled. “Just keep checking on him, won’t you? He might not want to shout for you if it’s late.”

* * *

Jim’s fingers twisted agitatedly in the ends of his hair, running down to scrape over the odds and ends of the stubble on his cheeks; he barely knew what time of day it was, let alone how long he’d been sat in the little room, his back aching from sleeping on a bare bench. He’d caught threads of conversations as he’d been given his food, extension on his holding time, fifteen thousand pounds on the bathroom floor-

He’d had them call his home phone fifteen times, and Freddie hadn’t answered once; he wasn’t sure if he was pleased that he’d followed his instructions, or upset at the knowledge that he’d lost his boy forever. His heart hurt at the idea that he couldn’t be sure he was safe, that he wasn’t back to tricking, dangerously violating his own boundaries and his own body in his grief; his heart hurt even harder as he thought of tears he couldn’t dry, wounds he couldn’t clean, love he couldn’t give. 

They’d always said solitary confinement could drive you insane.

The door slammed open against the wall and he looked up immediately, not caring how wrecked he looked, how red-faced, how greasy, how unkempt; he’d take anything he could get, any interaction, anything to distract himself from his own mind. He tried for a smile at the officer who stood in the doorway, trying to sit up a little straighter. “Is everything okay?” He asked.

He was waiting for the conversation about the docks, once they’d found the piece of paper with the address hastily scrawled and tucked under the phone, once they’d found the spare key in the bureau drawer; he was waiting for another round of questioning, this time with photos, ready to get him sent down for the rest of his waking life-

“You’ve got a visitor.” She replied simply. “Do you want to see him?”

“Him?” Jim asked keenly, suddenly sitting up straighter and trying to straighten out his shirt collar. “Who is it?”

“The surname’s Bulsara, if that helps?” She offered. 

“Yes!” He said quickly, standing up excitedly. “Yes, God, I’d love to see him.”

“Wait there.” She flashed him a smile and he felt a moment of gratitude for her, stepping from foot to foot, suddenly reinvigorated with a new passion now that Freddie was back, Freddie was willing to listen to him and believe him all along-

He swallowed hastily when he met eyes with Bomi instead. “Hello.” He smiled, though it was far more shy than his usual confidence; he held out a hand for him.

“I’m not sure I should be shaking hands with you.” He replied curtly, though he shook his hand anyway. 

“I know, I know.” He replied, suddenly breathless with all the questions in the world. “It’s all such a mess- has he come home to you? Is he okay? Has he- you know, has he been out, or has he just been home? Has anyone managed to find him, you haven’t had- I don’t know, any strange visitors, anything like that?”

“He’s home.” He nodded, sitting on one end of his bench. “He’s got one hell of a fever and a horrible cough, he hasn’t been anywhere except the sofa and his bed. And no, no strange visitors.” He explained, crossing one leg over the other. “But he also hates your fucking guts.”

“As I’d expect.” He admitted, letting all the anxieties of the past few nights roll off his shoulders. “Why are you- how come you’ve decided to visit me?” He asked.

“Because something doesn’t add up to me.” He crossed his arms. “Because- listen, I understand that you’re fabulously rich, and quite frankly, I couldn’t give a fuck about any of that. Clearly, my rent is pocket change to you. But I don’t understand why you’d put up Freddie’s whole family if you were just going to fuck around with other men.”

“Can I explain it all to you?” He asked hopefully.

“Oh, I’d encourage you to.” He held out the palm of his hand. “And if it’s believable, I’ll tell Freddie.”

Jim sat down on the floor and pressed his fingers into the ground beneath him. “It’s so vulgar.” He admitted. “I had a fiancé at the time I met Freddie. I- I’m clearly not one for fidelity.” He smiled a little, as though it was almost funny to him. “The boy Freddie met the other night, I saw him after he left. He- my fiancé, Tom, and I, we used to sleep with him. It was just a bit of fun, you know, we picked him up in a club and he was into all that so we used to play around with him. And I guess sometimes we felt bad, because this kid was obviously in love with me, so we used to take him out for dinner or whatever because we didn’t want to lose him.”

“And?” Bomi prompted.

“I slept with him while I was first with Freddie. Freddie knew I was engaged to Tom, he knew we still slept together, he knew I was playing around in that time because it was him who was the bit on the side.” He explained. “But after I broke up with Tom, I haven’t touched anybody except him. I haven’t touched that kid since I last slept with Tom, and I- God, I love Freddie so much, I wouldn’t do that to him.”

“It was all much simpler when I was young.” He replied, but the smile on his face warmed Jim’s heart, at the thought of someone so close to Freddie believing him. “Why don’t you tell me the truth about what you do for a living?”

The expression on his face grew nervous and he jerked his head up in the direction of the camera; he crossed his fingers with the hand that was hidden from its view, promising a full explanation one day, but not now. “I’m just a banker.” He repeated the same line as he’d told the officers. “My father owns Standard Chartered. And clearly, now, someone’s trying to stitch me up.”

“How awfully cruel of them.” He smirked, rolling his eyes playfully. He took a pen and a piece of paper from his pocket and scrawled down a number quickly, handing it over to him. “In case you want to call.”

“Thank you.” He said earnestly, a moment away from hugging Bomi as though he was his own father. As he stood to go, Jim stood quickly too, fingers tentatively touching his arm. “Is he going to be okay?” He asked softly.

With that expression on his face, Bomi felt for the first time how vulnerable he really was. “He’s seeing the doctor tomorrow.” He explained gently. “I think it’s probably a horrible chest infection, but we’ll find out to be sure.”

* * *

It was two in the morning by the time he was home, having searched out every shop still open in west London to find moong dal in preparation for the morning; he placed the bag quietly on the kitchen counter as he kicked his shoes off, yawning as he placed his jacket down beside it all and went to putting away the groceries he’d collected.

“Papa?” He heard; as he turned around, he saw Freddie, all dressed up in his pajamas, his cheeks wet with tears once again.

“Oh, angel.” His father said lovingly, holding out his arms for him; Freddie hugged him tightly, coughing and wheezing his way through sobs. “You’re really not well at all, are you?” He asked gently, kissing the top of his head. “I’m going to take you to the doctor in the morning, malus.”

Freddie nodded, clutching on tight to him as he dried his eyes on his shirt. “I coughed blood.” He said softly, and even the sound of his words felt painful to him. “It hurts, it really hurts, it hurts so badly-”

Bomi frowned and cupped his cheek, tilting his head up a little; his skin felt like it was burning beneath his fingers, and he didn’t like the blueness that tinted his lips. “I’m taking you to hospital.” He said immediately, changing his mind. “I’d rather it was nothing than we ignored it and regretted it.”

Freddie nodded, letting himself be helped into a coat and a pair of shoes, clutching onto his father for balance; he relaxed a little when he was lifted instead, letting himself drift into sleep in between the rounds of coughs that racked his body.


	33. Looked After

“He’s just having the first lot of antibiotics through the IV.” Bomi told him as they both watched over Freddie; Jim clutched a bouquet of roses in one hand, and yellow freesias in the other. “Aspiration pneumonia. It’s- well, obviously, it’s pneumonia, so it’s not good, but it’s not as bad as it could have been. He should be able to come home, so long as he takes well to the medication.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realise how ill he was.” He admitted, watching his lover as he slept. “At least he isn’t coughing so badly.”

“He had been taking cough suppressants, that’s what they think might have made it worse. He breathed in something that had irritated his lungs, something that was full of bacteria, and then he stopped himself from coughing.” Bomi sighed. “I don’t suppose he told you that he’s got a bad chest.”

“No.” He said softly. “How come?”

“He had pneumonia when he was a baby, just after he was born. He caught it in the hospital.” He said gently. “So his lungs scarred badly because he was so poorly. It just means that he’s more vulnerable to getting poorly, I used to worry myself sick about him going out in the winter to find work. It was a miracle he didn’t get ill when he shovelled your snow.”

Jim smiled a little as he watched him sleep. “He didn’t look like he’d eaten a square meal in months.”

“He hadn’t, not really. He’s got an awful habit of working too hard and putting himself last.” Bomi sat down beside his bed and brushed his hair back carefully. “I was thrilled when he found you, I must admit. He seemed to- I don’t know, he regained himself and everything we’ve always loved about him when he started having money in his pocket again.”

Jim knelt down beside the bed and took his hand gently, pressing a kiss to the warm skin beneath his fingers. “Thank you for looking after him.” He murmured earnestly. “I’m a little paranoid about safety.”

“You’re no more paranoid than I am.” He chuckled, folding his hands in his lap as Freddie reached up towards him with a yawn. “Good morning, darling.”

Freddie rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and yawned a little more as he pulled himself upright; he gratefully took a cup of water from his father’s hand to wet his lips before he spoke. “Morning.” He murmured, voice hoarse and throat sore from coughing. He crossed his legs and smoothed the blanket out around him, throwing one more smile to his father-

And then he saw Jim. “What the hell are you doing here?” He scowled, tucking his knees up to his chest defensively. 

Jim smiled as warmly as he could and took Freddie’s hand again, holding it closely between both of his own. “Darling, I-”

  
“Don’t darling me.” Freddie replied curtly. “I thought I told you to go fuck yourself? And you-” He turned to his father. “Why the hell did you let him in here?”

“Because he wants to explain a little misunderstanding to you, malus, and I thought it was best that we both listened to him.” He explained gently. “Because you know I don’t like seeing you upset, and especially without any reason behind it.”

Freddie frowned, weighing his words in his mind for a long moment before he reluctantly turned back to Jim. “Five minutes.”

“I didn’t cheat on you.” He blurted out, interlacing their fingers together. “Sweetheart, the boy you met, Tom and I messed around with him when we were engaged to be married. Right at the beginning of our relationship, when I was still with Tom, I slept with him. But ever since we’ve been engaged, I haven’t touched a single person except you.”

“How did he know you were there, then?” Freddie asked quietly, though Jim could tell he was softening; he held onto his lover’s hand more tightly. 

“I’ve had security go around to our flat. I think our phone might’ve been diverted or tapped, so when I called you somebody else could listen in.” He said softly. “Because the police tapped the phone at the docks, and all they would need is for the cleaner to do it for them. If it’s somebody who wants to hurt us, all they have to do is pay that guy to come down to the station, because they knew what it would do to you, and to me.”

Freddie leaned forward and wound his arms around Jim as best he could, smiling when Jim swept him up close to his chest. “Thank you.” He whispered. “Thank you- thank you for not.”

“Never. Never, ever, sweetheart.” He promised, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“How did you even get out?” He asked, starting to cough again; Jim rubbed his back gently to try and soothe him.

“Insufficient evidence.” He grinned, sitting on the edge of Freddie’s bed. “They said-

_ “You’re free to go.” The officer held out his clothes with a smile. “Unfortunately, we can’t charge you for being filthy rich.” _

_ Jim started to grin, almost incredulous, and took the bag from her as he stood up. “Thank you.” He replied happily, taking his house keys from her, and his wallet.  _

_ “I’d suggest maybe not leaving fifteen grand on your bathroom floor next time.” She recommended. “That was a lot of lines of enquiry that went down the drain, just for us to discover that the average wage in your job doesn’t surpass what you’ve got.” _

_ “I’ll try my best.” He chuckled, pulling his shirt on unashamedly. He had so many questions - there were so many things they hadn’t found - and yet he kept himself quiet. “Thank you.” _

“Crafty bastard.” Freddie yawned, resting his forehead against Jim’s collarbone. “I’m tired.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you to the docks if I’d known this was going to happen.” Jim chuckled warmly, carefully laying Freddie back down. “If I known it was going to make you this poorly.”

“Shit, do you think that’s what it is?” He asked, coughing into his pillow. 

“You’ve probably breathed in several thousand pounds worth of coke.” Jim kissed the top of his head and sat in the chair beside him, stroking his hair gently. “I’ll have to be more careful next time, I’m not having you hospitalised every time you come to work with me.”

“Secret’s out.” Bomi commented, standing up with a grin on his face. “I’m going to make tea, how do you take yours?”

“Earl Grey.” Freddie croaked, letting his eyes close again. 

“I know yours.” Bomi chuckled. “Jim?”

“English breakfast, just a dash of milk.” He smiled up at him. 

The door closed with a soft click and Freddie reached out for his lover, his eyes staying shut. “Come and cuddle.” Freddie whispered. 

“You want me to-” Jim stood up, pausing by his bedside.

Freddie yawned and held open the blankets. “Baby, I’m cold.”

“It’s early in the morning, and it’s cold outside.” Jim smiled and kicked off his shoes before he climbed in beside him, wrapping his arms tightly around his body. “I’m not surprised you’re cold.”

“How did you know I was here?” Freddie asked, cushioning his head comfortably against Jim’s chest, though he grumbled a little as he readjusted the oxygen cannula in his nose. “God, I hate these things.”

“Have you had them before?” He questioned, kissing the top of his head. 

“I had a chest infection when I was about eighteen, it was similar to this, I was in hospital for a couple of days.” He yawned. “I don’t get sick as often as I did when I was a kid, but if it’s anything to do with my lungs then they just like to monitor me.”

“I’m glad your dad was there to help you.” He said earnestly. “I called your home to ask if I could come and see you, he was collecting a few of your bits and he said he’d come and pick me up so I could see you.”

“My Papa is a very lovely man when he wants to be.” Freddie chuckled. “I think he likes you, for some reason.”

Jim laughed and cuddled Freddie close to his chest. “I think he likes to know that you’re happy, darling.”

Freddie snuggled comfortably against him, cheek to his t-shirt, and wound his arm around Jim’s waist to keep him close. “I need to sleep, darling.” He croaked. 

“You can sleep, my love. For however long you need to.” He added, settling comfortably down in his bed, lips resting against his temple; he felt the gentle shiver of Freddie’s body as he wriggled into place and the sigh of relief as he let himself drift off. “I’ll be here for you.”

* * *

“I don’t think you’ve ever needed a shower that badly in your life.” Jim chuckled, ruffling his fingers through Freddie’s damp hair to make it sit properly. “You’ve got some colour back in your cheeks, now.”

“It warmed me up.” He grinned when Jim draped another blanket over his shoulders, on top of his sweater and the duvet he was already wrapped in. “You’ll definitely be keeping me warm.”

“You’ve got pneumonia, Freddie, I’m not letting you get any sicker.” Jim dropped a kiss on the end of his nose. “You know, I had an interesting conversation the other night, before I got arrested.”

“Hm?” He asked curiously, closing his eyes tiredly for a moment before he looked back up at him, letting him dot serum on the apples of his cheeks.

“I know you very much love your music, darling, and I love it too.” He assured him. “But would you like to make some money on the side?”

He frowned, but the expression on his face was more curious than upset. “It depends what it is, darling.”

“Modelling.” He said bluntly. “For a couple of different London fashion houses. I’ve had a couple of people ask me if that’s something you’re into, because you’re always dressed up and looking gorgeous.”

Freddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Jim chuckled. “The works, professional hair and makeup and your signature lipstick, and then they dress you up in beautiful things and you just sit there and look pretty.”

“I think I could do that.” Freddie grinned, closing his eyes again as Jim spread moisturiser on his cheeks. “Is my Papa still here?”

“He’s gone home to get some sleep, sweetheart.” Jim said lovingly. “Once he knew you were happy, he thought he’d go and rest up.”

“Do you think I’d make a pretty model?” Freddie asked, his mind drifting between topics as Jim carefully looped the oxygen cannula back around his ears. “Be gentle, my nose is all dry.”

“I think you’d make a gorgeous model, baby.” Jim smiled, helping him to position it in his nose as Freddie yawned. “You know I love it when you get all dressed up for me, it’d be sharing the love.”

Freddie laughed, his hands reaching up to touch Jim’s. “Careful-” He murmured, a little more urgent, before his grip tightened on Jim’s wrists. “Careful, gentle!”

The tube hit against the inside of his nose and he wrinkled his nose a little. “Did I hurt you?” Jim asked worriedly.

“It doesn’t hurt, darling, it just-” He touched his nose and the ends of his fingers came back bloody. “It dries out the inside of your nose, which means that I always end up getting nose bleeds.”

“Shit.” Jim whispered, quickly retrieving a tissue from his bedside and using it to dab at his nose. “God, it turns out I’m terrible at being a boyfriend.”

Freddie rolled his eyes and swatted his knee, suddenly resting against his lover when he felt too tired to hold himself up. “You’re not a terrible boyfriend, shut up.”

“I got arrested while you had pneumonia.” He murmured, blotting his nose once more before he carefully lay him down again. 

Freddie started coughing with the change in position, groaning at the sudden pain in his chest. “You’ve got a point.” He murmured, sounding so tired as Jim retrieved his painkillers from the counter. 

“I should’ve made you take these while you were sitting up.” He murmured, supporting Freddie under his shoulders so that he could take a small swallow of water to take them. 

Freddie smiled a little when Jim dragged the blanket over him, settling him down comfortably again. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He murmured earnestly, glancing up at his lover once more. “Thank you for coming back.”

Jim leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Go to sleep, angel.” He whispered. “I’ll still be here when the sunshine comes home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you love the "I'll be here when you wake up" motif as much as I do lmao


	34. Pineapple Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making the most of feeling better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reuploaded because we have art! As always, done by the incredible [@living_on_my_own_fm](https://living-on-my-own-fm.tumblr.com/) tumblr/ [@delphine_fm_](https://www.instagram.com/delphine_fm_/) instagram!
> 
> Also - we've officially broken 100k words!

“You’re looking very pretty this morning.” Jim complimented mindlessly as Freddie left the bathroom, robe haphazardly cascading down from his collarbones; his hair hung in his face, wavy though wet, and his cheeks glowed with the products he’d used to nourish his skin. Though his cheeks were still flushed with the remnants of his fever, he looked healthier and happier as he came to perch on the end of the bed, sitting almost demurely on the footboard.

“Do you think so?” He asked hopefully, running his fingers through the damp ends of his hair. “I didn’t spend half the night coughing, for once.”

“I had noticed.” Jim grinned, standing opposite him and taking a moment to appreciate his eyes as they met his own; his gaze was so innocent and yet so penetrating, intense and focused though sweet and happy. “Do you remember the conversation we had the other day, about the modelling?” He asked.

“Yes, darling, I do.” Freddie replied, retrieving a shirt of Jim’s from the floor and swapping his robe for the simple garment.

“I know you’re still a little under the weather, but would you like to do some shots soon?” He questioned, giving him an excited smile. “I know a couple of places that are dying for your portfolio.”

“Really?” He asked curiously, running a hand over his leg. “Well, darling, it depends on how quickly you can get me in for a wax.”

“I’ll book you in for this afternoon at Strip, how does that sound?” He grinned back at him. “Full body wax and a facial, how about that?”

“Oh, heaven!” Freddie sang happily, standing up and standing on his toes to loop his arms around Jim’s neck. “Can they do my eyebrows?”

“Of course.” Jim stole a kiss and cupped his cheek lovingly, the other hand holding onto his waist. 

“Can I get a manicure?” Freddie asked, looking down at his fingers. “And a pedicure, too?”

“Why don’t you just have a pamper day? I’ll throw in a massage along with it all.” He winked, watching the look of delight on Freddie’s face. 

“Oh, I knew I was marrying you for a reason!” Freddie sang happily, kissing him again. “This is a wonderful way to say sorry for getting arrested.”

Jim rolled his eyes playfully and rested his forehead against Freddie’s. “I won’t be so stupid next time.”

“No, you won’t.” Freddie winked, kissing him once more before he turned around and picked up his antibiotics from the bedside table. “What kind of photos would they like from me, darling?”

“Anything you’d like to give them, my love.” Jim sat on the end of the bed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as he walked past him to retrieve his suit jacket. “I’ll call up to make you some reservations, okay? I’ll call here to let you know when they are.”

“Thank you.” Freddie smiled sweetly. “We’ll see how pretty I feel when I’ve finished, then we’ll think about photos.”

* * *

He couldn’t help but allow his fingers to trail over his legs, feeling their smoothness under his fingers; he skimmed his ankles, calves, thighs, his waist, his chest and his collarbones, before his hands went up to his hair. It was freshly bleached, cut short again, standing out beautifully against his skin; he knelt up close to the mirror, brushing it back and forth with a laugh, finally feeling himself again. He readjusted the sit of the thong on his hips, admiring how it looked against the taut muscles of his stomach, proud of the body before him from the bright white hair down to his toenails, painted purple-

“Fuck me.” Jim whispered as he opened the door, looking him up and down hungrily. “God, you look like a fucking angel.”

“I’d need to be wearing white for that, darling.” Freddie laughed, stretching up and watching Jim’s eyes as they admired the muscles in his arms. 

“When did you get so fucking ripped?” He asked, sitting down behind him and rubbing his hands over Freddie’s waist. “You barely had anything on you when I first met you.”

Freddie shrugged, pleased at his reaction. “We’ve been rehearsing a lot for our tour.” He explained sweetly. “And I run around like a fucking maniac, I climb on things and jump on things and shit like that. I’m learning to do a backflip off of Roger’s drum stand.”

Jim kissed the back of his neck, smoothing his hands over his stomach. “You look fucking incredible.” He murmured against his skin. 

“I look damn pretty.” He smirked, arching his head to the side as Jim continued to kiss him. “I didn’t realise how much I needed my hair doing.”

He chuckled and kissed just behind his ear, rubbing his hands over Freddie’s thighs. “I did.” He grinned. “God, I’m obsessed with your skin.”

“You know, darling-” Freddie reached back and tangled a hand in Jim’s hair, encouraging him to kiss him again, all over his shoulders and his neck. “The boy who was doing my wax was awfully handsy with me.”

“You’re just that irresistible, is that it?” He teased, running his hands over Freddie’s inner thighs, taking the hint. 

Freddie smirked a little. “I think he made a pass at me.” He whispered. “He was touching me far more than was strictly necessary, you know, he had awfully curious fingers.”

Jim laughed in his ear and dipped his hand into his briefs, wrapping his hand around his cock. “I’m not sure I can blame him, my darling.” He whispered in his ear, slowly stroking him off. “Something a little like this?”

Freddie shuddered and let his head fall back against Jim’s shoulder, biting his lip. “Yeah, exactly.” He whispered, spreading his legs wider. “Ah- just like that.”

Jim tutted playfully. “I can see why he’d want to.” He smirked, winding his other arm around Freddie’s waist and thumbing over one of his nipples. “Why don’t you look at yourself, baby? So you can see what the rest of the world sees.”

Freddie’s eyes fluttered open and he watched the slow movement of Jim’s hand around his cock. “Oh, God-” He gasped.

“Look at your face.” Jim whispered in his ear. “Do you see the gorgeous expressions you make?”

Freddie’s back arched as his hand sped up and he moaned; he watched the blush suffuse over his cheeks, his chest, and watched the way his mouth fell open. “Fuck-” He whispered, swallowing a breath as hastily as he could. 

“Do you think I come too quickly when I fuck you?” Jim smirked, kissing the shell of his ear. “It’s because you look like this. I can’t help myself when you look like this, when you sound like this.”

Freddie’s eyes were fixated on how his hand twisted over the head of his cock, watching his hips jump as though he wasn’t watching himself fuck his lover’s fist; he gasped loudly, watching himself as he moaned when Jim tightened his hand on the upstroke. “I love you.” Freddie groaned. 

“I love you too.” Jim chuckled, speeding up his hand further and feeling the pulse of his cock. “Close, baby?”

Freddie bit his lip as he watched his cock leak over Jim’s fingers, slicking their skin. “So close.” He whispered, one hand gripping onto Jim’s thigh, the other grabbing onto his wrist to encourage him to go as fast as he could. 

“Watch yourself.” Jim whispered as Freddie’s eyes started to flutter. “Watch yourself, I want you to see your face.”

“Fuck-” Freddie gasped, squeezing his thigh hard as he thrust up into his hand, trying his best to keep his eyes on his face as he chased his orgasm; he bit his lip hard as his hips stuttered, keeping his eyes open for a few more moments as he watched himself come.

Freddie fell back against him with a long moan as his body shuddered its way through his orgasm, his head falling back on Jim’s shoulder as he trembled in his arms; Jim continued to stroke him through the aftershocks, kissing the side of his neck again and again until Freddie groaned from the overstimulation. “You’re so fucking hot, darling.” Jim chuckled, leaning in to kiss him properly, Freddie’s lips slack against his own as he recovered. 

Freddie shuddered and leaned up to cup his cheek as he kissed him back. “I think you’ve ruined me.” He laughed softly. “Mm, darling- you know I’m absolutely useless when I’ve come.”

Jim grinned and picked him up easily, Freddie sweet and quiet in his arms as he carried him and placed him down on the bed. “I’m not even tired.” Freddie laughed, reaching up for him. “I want you to cuddle me, though.”

“I’m sure I can oblige.” Jim lay beside him and tugged him close, kissing the top of his head. “A good orgasm and cuddles, what more could you need?”

“Nothing, darling, nothing at all.” Freddie laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I couldn’t want anything else.”

* * *

Music had always gotten to his head, quicker than any drug, quicker than any rush he’d ever experienced from coke, from any shot of liquor. There was something about it that made him feel invincible, feeling as though he could take on anything that was thrown at him: there was something about it that gave him confidence, the confidence to radiate sex appeal with an arch of the back and a flutter of the eyelashes. The music that evening made him unashamed before the cameras, confident and cocky, knowing full well just how beautiful he looked as he laid all bare to see. 

Jim watched him as he leaned back on his hands, sat comfortably on the floor; his legs were extended before him, bent gently at the knee, his feet pressed flat to the floor. One of his hands came up to his hair, a piece of white voile thrown over one shoulder and over his groin to preserve his modesty; the rest of his body was completely bare, beautifully on show for the rest of the world to see. He winked at Jim as he pointed his toes, flexing the muscles in his calves and his thighs, the muscles of his arms thrown into sharp relief when he leaned back. “Do you like the shot?” He asked teasingly.

“You know I like the shot.” Jim crossed his arms and chuckled, looking him up and down. “You really decided to go all out for that portfolio, hey?”

“I can’t believe this is your first portfolio.” The photographer chuckled as he came into the room, shaking Jim’s hand. “You’ve got the confidence of somebody who’s been in the industry for years.”

“I work in music.” Freddie told him, smiling up at him when he pointed his camera at him to adjust the settings. “I’m used to being on stage. I pose for a living.”

“You’re gorgeous.” He complimented mindlessly. “We’ll do these shots, some headshots and some underwear shots, so long as you’re happy with that. Have you ever walked a catwalk?”

“No, darling. I’ve never done anything like this before.” Freddie grinned, running a hand over his leg sensually and laughing when the camera flashed. “Hey!”

“Agencies love candids.” He winked. “I’d love to get a video of you doing a catwalk. We’ve got a couple of fashion weeks coming up, we’ll send these out for all those companies that have been interested in you.”

“I never knew there were so many people interested in me.” Freddie laughed, leaning back again as he sat his camera on its tripod. 

“Oh, don’t play shy.” Jim chuckled, sitting on the floor out of shot. “You know exactly how many people want you.”

Freddie arched his neck a little and settled in as he took the first few shots, holding his back in an irresistible arch; he smirked, confident as ever, and then settled into a light pout as the camera flashed again. “How do I look?” He asked, playing up to the attention. 

“To die for.” The photographer crooned, and Freddie laughed smugly; he opened his eyes and flashed him the best bedroom eyes he could, adoring the love and the attention.

“Honestly, Freddie.” Jim smirked as he repositioned himself, turning towards the camera and kneeling forward with the sash artfully wound around one of his thighs; he interlaced his hands behind his head and leaned back a little, showing off the lines of the muscles in his chest.

“You’re a natural.” He murmured, his eyes practically glued to his hips. “Fuck, that’s a good shot.”

Freddie laughed and tossed his head back a little. “I’ve still got a fever and you’re both acting like you want to eat me alive.”

“The flush makes you look more alive.” Jim joked, laughing at the incensed look on Freddie’s face as he turned around. “Focus!”

“I look perfectly fine the rest of the time!” Freddie rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you go and make yourself useful?”

“I’m the slavey now, am I?” Jim smirked but stood up regardless. “What can I do for your majesty?”

“A pastel red lipstick and a bottle of pineapple juice.” Freddie winked at him. “Please, baby.”

Jim rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket. “I’ll see what I can do.”


	35. Armani

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two careers.

Freddie liked to write songs late at night; he liked the lights dimmed, the curtains closed, a cigarette burning in an ashtray propped on top of the piano and accompanied with a mug of tea to wet his throat whenever it went dry. He liked the quiet that came with the evening, peace enough for his mind to work uninterrupted; he liked having his lover nearby to listen, never interjecting, wanting to just listen to him as he worked and created, notes to match his voice and notes to clash with it. He liked to work into the early hours of the morning, and he liked the way the night made his voice sound; he liked the way the night would guide his fingers to match his voice, notes that would sound so mundane during the day that suddenly became magic with a flourish of his fingers once the moon had flooded his vision. 

“I was playing Killer Queen the other night.” Freddie murmured, picking up his cigarette and taking a long drag. “We need to put that back in the setlist, I miss it.”

Brian chuckled, his fingers skimming the strings of his guitar as he started to play the solo mindlessly. “It’s a fucking good one.” He complimented.

“Oh, that’s it.” He smiled and closed his eyes, accompanying him easily. “It’s nice of you to come and play with me.”

“Oh, I’ve been desperate to come to your flat.” He chuckled, playing mindlessly. “I was sure it would be nice up here, and I wasn’t wrong.”

“I did all the decorating.” Freddie boasted proudly, glancing over at him. “Spent hours painting in here.”

“With very expensive paint, I imagine. Did you paint your piano?” He asked curiously. “I don’t remember it being white.”

“It’s actually Jim’s piano.” Freddie skimmed his fingers over the keys. “Although he doesn’t know how to play all that much, so I’ve adopted it. His room in his old house was white, so he’d had it done to match.” He smiled lazily. “It’s a Bechstein.”

He whistled playfully. “Have you written anything new recently?”

“A couple of little bits and pieces.” Freddie pressed a series of chords down, listening to the magic beneath his own fingertips. “I wrote one when I was alone in here, after Jim had been arrested.”

“A sad one?” He questioned. “We could do with one to balance out the album.”

“Preying on my misfortune.” Freddie chuckled and took a final drag on his cigarette before he crushed it in the ashtray. “It’s called Love Of My Life.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely.” He breathed as Freddie started to play, the melody hanging heavy in the air even without his voice to match; Freddie smiled lazily, happily, his eyes closing heavily as he let his head hang down. He yawned and laughed as he watched the expression on his face, so enthralled by the music that he could produce from his fingertips with only the slightest hint of his mind needing to be involved-

He closed his eyes again and smiled as he listened to the click of his front door, the soft sound of shoes hitting the wall in the hallway as they were kicked off; he listened to the sound of a watch being laid down on the counter, next to the dish where their house keys lived, and a soft leather bag hitting the floor. He heard the gentle sound of socked feet as they wandered down the corridor, moving so quietly as to not disturb his lover in case he was in the middle of creating something incredible-

Freddie’s eyes opened slowly when hands lightly squeezed his shoulders, and he leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his lover’s lips; he laughed when his nose bumped his chin, relishing in the languid drag of their lips. “My darling, we’ve got company.” He murmured.

Jim looked up and smiled at the man in front of them, standing up behind Freddie and slowly taking each of his rings off, until he was left with only his engagement ring glittering in the low light. “Why don’t you introduce me, lovely?”

“This is Brian.” Freddie flashed them both a happy smile. “He’s my wonderful guitarist.”

Jim grinned at him and pulled up one of the dining chairs to sit beside his lover. “You must be Jim.” Brian smiled back at him, idly plucking the strings as Freddie began to play again. 

“Freddie clearly talks about me as much as he talks about you.” Jim laughed, taking a packet of Treasurers from his pocket and holding it up. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all.” He smiled. 

Freddie took one from between his fingers and allowed him to light it for him; he chuckled as he took a long breath in. “I think this is my hundredth for the day.”

“How many of them have you actually smoked?” Jim chuckled. “You’re a fiend for letting them burn out without touching them.”

“About four.” Freddie winked, stretching out with a yawn. “My poor fingers are cramping.”

“That’s because it’s four in the morning and I imagine you’ve been at it for hours.” Jim rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Shit, it’s four in the morning?” Brian laughed. “I’ve got to be at work at eight.”

“Aren’t I the most awful influence?” Freddie simpered playfully. “You ought to quit your job, darling, marry a rich man. It works out awfully well.”

They dissolved into laughter, languid, lazy and a little drunk in the early morning darkness; Freddie’s heart was warm, his smile happy, and when the first rays of sunshine crept over his face hours later, his smile disappeared into the defence of his lover’s skin. 

* * *

The music was like nothing he’d ever heard before; despite years of running sleazy clubs, clubs where bartenders would lose shirts, glasses would be smashed over heads, blowjobs would be hastily traded through holes in walls, he’d never experienced anything quite like it. He’d never experienced music that reverberated straight through to his core; even listening to Freddie, it was the show that brought the goosebumps to his skin, not so much the music alone. 

But this music - it echoed throughout his brain, dictated the movement of his hands, and drained him of any sense he’d ever had.

Jim couldn’t believe Freddie was allowed to wear quite so little up on the catwalk that night; the briefs he wore sat low on his hips, exposing the cut of the skin that was usually his alone to savour, and his shoulders were covered with a light white gown, something soft and silky that made his skin look ethereal. It brought out the colour in his skin that he hadn’t lost, even in the English winter; it brought out the colour in his cheeks, bold and healthy, glowing, fluorescent. 

But he liked the contrast it played to the scarlet on his lips the most; they’d carved out his cheekbones, contoured his face perfectly, making him look more effeminate than ever behind darkened eyes and lascivious curls that hung over his shoulders. 

“I would say that my eyes are up here, darling.” Freddie quipped playfully, crossing his arms over his chest; Jim watched the flex of the muscles in his arms and licked his lips subconsciously, making Freddie laugh. “But you seem to be fixated on the whole package.”

“They’ve made an angel of you.” Jim stood up, buttoning his waistcoat, and approached him, cupping his cheek in his hand. “God, look at you.”

“You could be forgiven for being a little confused, couldn’t you?” Freddie joked, biting his lip sensuously and then winking. “It’s a Charlotte Tilbury.”

Jim whistled, resisting the urge to kiss it from his lips. “It looks fucking incredible.” He breathed, running his hands over Freddie’s arms lightly. “Barefoot?”

“I’ve got white stilettos.” Freddie grinned wider. “It turns out I can’t walk in normal shoes, I walk wrong, so they’ve got to teach me. But I know how to do the proper walk in stilettos, so we’re doing that.”

“You’ll be crippled by the end of the night.” He grinned, sitting down in his armchair when Freddie pushed him down playfully. “I wouldn’t push me down too hard if I were you, darling, I might have to ruin you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He smirked, running his fingers over his own jawline and then running them over his chest; he climbed into Jim’s lap, thighs straddling both of his, and he pressed a few kisses just above the open collar of his shirt. “How much does this fit the bill, hm? A billionaire blown backstage at a major catwalk by one of the new pretty models?”

“I’m not a billionaire.” Jim murmured, slipping his hands under Freddie’s briefs to cup his ass. “Christ, I want you.”

“You’re not the only one.” Freddie winked, kissing over his pulse point and feeling the shudder of his body in response. “You’ll be a billionaire before long, my darling.”

“Have you got plans?” He asked with a smirk, squeezing his ass a little and groaning softly as he rocked his hips forward. “Jesus, Freddie.”

“I’m making ten grand tonight.” He whispered in his ear, lips dragging teasingly. 

Jim watched him with a lazy smile on his face as Freddie thumbed open his slacks, his hands tightening on his hips. “As you should, lovely.”

“It’s about time.” Freddie smirked, licking his palm and then wrapping his hand around his cock. “You’re so fucking hard.”

“You’re so fucking hot.” He replied, lighting a cigarette and then leaving it between his lips as he clasped his fingers behind his head. “Mm, fuck- come on, darling, faster.”

Freddie did as he was told, leaning into his space until all Jim could smell was the cologne on his skin, his head reeling with the headiness of it. He opened his eyes as Freddie trailed his finger over the head of his cock, sucking it into his mouth to taste him; he fluttered his eyelashes, not caring how much of a show he put on as Jim groaned in return. 

He looked up suddenly when Freddie stood up, looking him up and down with a smirk, and held out his hand. “Give me your cigarette.”

“What?” He asked dumbly, sitting up a little. “Freddie-”

He held his hand out more pointedly and Jim handed him the cigarette, watching as Freddie took a long drag, blowing the smoke up at the ceiling. “Consider it an IOU.” He smirked at Jim’s bereft expression, leaning and tucking him back into his trousers with a wink. “Because, my darling-” He put the cigarette back between his lover’s lips. “I have exactly a minute until I’m on stage, and I’m not about to fuck it up.”

Jim watched him as he shoved his feet into stilettos quickly, blowing a hasty kiss as he disappeared, and groaned as he straightened out his shirt. He pulled himself to standing, shaking his head with a chuckle, and closed his eyes for a long moment before he headed for the door. “Bastard.” He whispered to himself.

* * *

There was nothing about Freddie that could shock him, he was sure. There was nothing he could possibly do, possibly say, possibly wear, possibly behave, that would surprise him; he’d seen all of it, been on the receiving end of the good half of it, and watched the poor bastards who’d had the bad half. He’d seen lingerie, suits, leotards, jeans; he’d watched the lewd roll of his hips up on stage and in bed later that night; he’d heard insults that could split a man in two with the venom behind them-

And yet, his breath caught in his throat when he emerged onto the runway.

He’d thrown a hundred pounds at the person that had the seat he’d wanted, and then he’d thrown another two hundred at them when they’d refused to move; he’d known it would be a spectacle to watch, the effeminate sway of his hips as he walked in stilettos, the confidence that seemed to roll from his shoulders in waves. He’d always known his lover was beautiful - and he’d had more than a few hurried compliments from people who’d inquired if he was his boy, or if he was something wonderful that could be rented for the night - and yet, this felt different to anything he’d ever seen from Freddie.

The stilettos highlighted the lines of the muscles in his lean legs as he walked, capturing the attention of every photographer, every designer, every man who could throw him into a spotlight he’d never known he wanted before. He smirked as though he knew exactly what he was doing, pausing to throw the gown from his shoulders, crouching down to emphasise the curve of his ass as he came back up. Nothing was concealed, nothing was hidden, there was nothing to be ashamed of; there was nothing but the lascivious smile on his lips, designed to swallow every man whole.

Jim smirked as he took a drag of his cigarette, propping his feet up on the camera platform as he watched Freddie turn with a wink; he looked at the photographer next to him and grinned. “That’s my boy.” He told him, taking a drag. “My fiancé.”

“Has he got a card?” He asked distractedly, watching as Freddie disappeared. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Not yet. He’s new to the industry.” Jim felt inside his suit jacket and handed him one of his own business cards. “But I do. You can contact us on this number.”

He took it and carefully tucked it in the pocket of his camera bag. “Does he do solo shoots?”

“It depends on how much you’d like to pay for him.” Jim replied simply.

“I couldn’t quote you now.” He admitted, putting the camera down with disinterest at the next model. “I work for Vogue, and I think they’d like to scout him for an Armani editorial that’s coming up. They’ve rejected all of the models put forward so far.”

Jim grinned, obviously pleased, and waved his hand towards where his business card was neatly tucked. “He usually can’t work Saturdays.” He shrugged. “But aside from that, he’s yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm having a bit of a tough time at the moment with writing - I'm struggling a bit with my mental health, whilst also moving house and going back to uni, and everything is quite overwhelming at the moment! I'm going to be taking a semi-hiatus for the next week or so (perhaps a couple of chapters of something, but I won't be prioritising it, so I can't promise anything) - you all know how much I love writing, but I don't want it to become something I resent or try to do halfheartedly. I hope you all understand! x


	36. Pink Sand Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the words come tumbling out.

“Did you see me?” Freddie asked, out of breath as he ran barefoot to his lover. “Jim, Jim, did you see me?”

He turned around quickly when Freddie grabbed his arm, grinning widely at him; he picked him up by the waist and swung him around playfully, listening to his delighted laughter as he tipped his head back. “Of course I saw you!” He kissed the end of his nose when Freddie wrapped his arms around his neck, looking so wonderfully happy. “Baby, you were amazing!”

“Do you think so?” He asked excitedly, kissing him properly and winding his legs around Jim’s waist. “I nearly fell, those shoes were so high.”

“You couldn’t tell.” Jim promised him, winding a short little curl around his fingers. “You know, the man who sat next to me, he was a photographer for Vogue- and, he just so happened to be interested in a pretty little blonde model for an Armani editorial.”

His eyes widened and he grinned so widely. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Why would I lie about something like that?” He rolled his eyes playfully. “You want to get all pretty for a major international magazine?”

“I can’t fucking believe this.” He murmured, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lipstick smudged in the shape of his smile. “I shovelled some fucking snow, Jim, what the fuck?”

Jim laughed and sat him down on the makeup bench, carefully tending to the lipstick on his chin with a makeup wipe wound around the pad of his finger. “Romance is alive and well.” He murmured, kissing him deep and slow, savouring the waxen feeling of cocoa butter against his lips. 

“I just so happened to capture the heart of some aristocratic millionaire who has a thing for blondes.” Freddie laughed, twisting his fingers in the hair at the nape of Jim’s neck. “Who was happy to drop everything, so that I could be his pretty little husband.”

“I told you, baby, anything you want I’ll make come true. I don’t care how exotic it is, it’s my job to keep you happy.” He smiled as he ran the pad of his thumb over Freddie’s cheekbone. 

Freddie leaned up to kiss him again, but stopped just shy, teasingly brushing their lips together instead. “I want to marry you.” He whispered.

Jim cupped the back of his neck in the palm of his hand and kissed him deeply. “We’re already engaged, my darling.”

“I know that.” Freddie pulled back a little and flashed him his best begging eyes. “But I want to marry you, my dear. I want a wedding.” He smiled. “I want a wedding where I can promise to be yours forever, because I can’t bear the idea that this - any of this - might one day disappear.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Jim admitted, the words etched into Freddie’s lips by the tendrils of his breath; he swore he could taste the love on his lover’s tongue without needing to touch it himself, the flavour strong like spearmint. “Let’s get married.”

Freddie’s smile only widened and he rested his forehead on Jim’s, breath a little laboured with his excitement. “Where?”

“Hawaii.” He grinned wider. “Or the Bahamas. Let’s get married on a pink sand beach.”

Freddie’s mouth dropped open, and Jim couldn’t help but taste the sweetness of his shock. “The Bahamas?” He laughed. “I was thinking- I was thinking the fucking registry office!”

“We only get married once.” Jim smoothed the palms of his hands over the bare skin of his thighs and smiled at him. “Why not go all out? Let’s get drunk on twenty-four thousand dollar champagne on a pink sand beach and lose our first set of rings in the waves.”

“Baby…” Freddie sighed a little. “I wanted to have my family there, you know? And they- they probably won’t be able to afford the flights if we go out there.” He bit his lip, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I-”

He squeaked when Jim picked him up from the counter and threw him down on the sofa, landing heavily beside him. “I’m not having anybody pay a penny.” He grinned. “You think your sister would like to bring her new boyfriend to Harbour Island?”

Freddie’s eyes widened. “You’re not serious.”

“Why can’t I be? I’ll ship both of our families there on a fucking private cruise-liner if I have to, I don’t care.” He grinned. “I want to dance in the remnants of the day’s sunshine with you, and I want to listen to you complaining about picking pink sand out of your hair for weeks.”

Freddie threw his arms around Jim, as tight as he could. “Oh my God-”

“We’ll have a marquee with floating lanterns tied to it, and we’ll let them go at midnight, and maybe one will find its way into our back garden.” Jim wrapped his arms tight around Freddie, forever adoring the way their bodies fit as though made for one another. “Rose petals, mandalas in the sand, stripping down to our underwear to run into the water when someone gets too drunk and tries to get us to pose for photos.”

“It sounds perfect.” Freddie whispered. “Warm summer air and freckles-”

“And the stripe of tan you get down the bridge of your nose when you stay in the sunshine for too long.” Jim kissed his temple gently. “Champagne that tickles your tummy-”

“And a huge tower of profiteroles next to the wedding cake, just like the ones we had on our first proper date.” Freddie murmured, voice a melodic hum. “But if we get married in the Bahamas, where do we go for our honeymoon?”

“We can stay a little while there.” Jim’s fingers trailed up and down his back, tracing idle love hearts into the warmth of his skin. “Or we can go somewhere you’ve always dreamed of.”

“Japan.” Freddie murmured immediately.

“Then I’ll take you to Tokyo, sweetheart, and I’ll take you to Kyoto, and I’ll show you all the most beautiful places in Japan.” Jim whispered. “After a few days on a beach, if that sounds good to you.”

Freddie sighed happily, wrapped up and absorbed in the scent, the taste, the touch, the sound, and the sight of his fiancé - the man he would soon call his husband.

“It sounds perfect, my darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be doing a little time skip in between now and the next chapter...


	37. The Last Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He gets a little tired of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there change on the horizon?

His gaze was intense, pinpointed, focused like a predator on its prey; the world around him faded into a vague haze, only increasing the intensity of his look. His fingers slipped from between Jim’s easily, just in the same way as he was used to on dance floors, when he’d melt into a haze of neon pink and green that stained the skin on his throat with the scent of the liquor he drank; one moment he was there, the skin between their palms clammy, and then he was gone. 

Their nights ran like clockwork, the pretty little siren dancing with the right men, luring names and numbers and addresses from tongues made loose with gifted vodka. His memory was incredible, Jim had learned quickly: he never made a mistake when he recited one of the numbers on the tip of his tongue, while methodically unwinding a bracelet or watch from around his arm, a necklace from the lithe cut of his waist, unperturbed by whatever he was wearing, too short, too tight, too much, too little. He would take off rings and smooth his fingers over million pound jewels as he recited the right addresses to raid, where they’d find store rooms of coke that had been promised to the blonde with the wicked smile. 

The first few nights, Jim had given him men to look for, the ones wearing the Rolex watches, the ones wearing Cartier jewellery; he’d taught him the look with a hand on his ass and the other on his waist, catching eyes with anyone who would try and make trouble for him with a simple arch of the eyebrow. 

Nobody tried touching his boy before he landed in their lap. 

Freddie stood in front of a man, tall, his face concealed by a high collar that cut off the profile of his jaw; even here, even now, he stood as though just a little nervous to be seen. Wordless, he turned down its corners, gaze concentrated on the corners of his lips as his own turned upwards into a smirk. “You’ve got dirt on your face, my darling.” He crooned, the pad of his thumb soft against the brittle hair of the stranger’s moustache. “You could do with dolling up some.”

The man caught his wrist, but his touch was gentle, cradling Freddie’s skin between his fingers, the place he wore a perpetual bracelet of purple; he was forever grabbed, pulled, restrained, until the skin surrounding the bird bones was worn thin. “I wouldn’t expect to see you here.” He replied, his other hand skimming the outline of his figure; he wore only a scarlet leotard, Louboutin stilettos from a gig for Cosmopolitan, and his Cartier bracelet. “Oh, sugar.”

“Most men wouldn’t expect me here, Daddy.” He purred, cupping the man’s cheek in the palm of his hand and bringing his forehead down to touch his own. “It’s tricky to take the steps up in these heels, you know?” 

He groaned, the noise broken by a laugh as he leaned down to kiss him; a curt little turn of his head left him kissing the softness and powder of the skin beside his ear, lips brushing his cheekbone. “I’d never have expected little Freddie Mercury to be such a coquette.”

“You have to buy me dinner these days.” Freddie’s fingers ran down his chest to his tie, and slowly untied the knot in the silk. “I’m not such a cheap date.”

“You were never a cheap date, baby boy.” He whispered, pulling the zipper that sat low on his chest, his eyes glued to the expanse of smooth skin beneath. “I don’t suppose the dinner could be delayed until tomorrow, if it’s on a pinky promise?”

He could feel the heat of Freddie’s laughter through his shirt as fingers unlatched his belt, and swiftly undid a sequence of buttons. “How much do you think I charge these days?” He murmured. “Of course, you never did have to pay.”

“I paid the first time.” He replied, eyelids heavy as a soft palm closed around him. “Oh, baby-”

“Did you forget what I’m like?” Freddie asked, fluttering his lashes just a little. “You always said I was the best you ever had.”

“I never lied to you.” He groaned, hands greedily roaming Freddie’s body as he twisted his wrist wickedly. “God-  _ fuck.”  _ He shuddered. “Never lied at all.”

“You never lied to me?” Freddie murmured as his hands grabbed his ass hungrily. “What about my best friend?”

His eyes shot open quickly as Freddie grabbed the biggest handful he could, squeezing hard. “Baby-”

“You thought I wouldn’t hold it against you?” He whispered, his voice dripping with venom. “The truth is hard to swallow.”

Hands tightened painfully on his skin, and yet Freddie’s eyes remained defiantly glued to him. “You’re just as fucking sour-”

A hand grabbed Freddie’s shoulder and pulled him back; he swayed precariously on the point of his stiletto for a moment, the acrid taste of Sambuca suddenly burning the back of his throat again, and then fell straight backwards.

“What the fuck?” Jim asked, catching him with one arm as easily as though he was weightless. “What the-”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Freddie turned into his chest, cowering despite the inches and the confidence that his shoes gifted him. “Did you see him?” He asked, his voice a frightened hiccup. “He was- he-”

Jim looked up at the stranger, stood shocked frozen with his hard cock jutting from his dress pants, and his mouth went dry. “What the fuck were you doing with my boy?”

Freddie noted the unusual waver in his voice, a crack he was sure hadn’t been heard since the first day he’d got his keys to the dock, and only held on harder to his lover’s shirt, hoping the encounter would spin in his favour. “Your- your boy?” The stranger asked. “Fuck, Jim, I didn’t-”

“Were you pressuring him into sex?” He asked disgustedly, winding his suit jacket around Freddie’s shoulders. 

“Nothing like that!” He insisted quickly. “Listen, we’ve got history, we used to date a few years back-”

Jim’s eyebrows shot up. “You-”

“He cheated on me.” Freddie murmured into his collarbone. 

“I didn’t realise you were in the picture- I thought I could, you know- rekindle something.” He smiled awkwardly, and then quickly smoothed out his boxers and trousers. 

“But it turns out I’m fucking your best friend.” Freddie smirked, suddenly losing his apparent fear as Jim’s arm curled around his waist.

“I just thought-” He walked closer to Freddie, his hand gently touching his thigh. His eyes met Jim’s, arching a suggestive eyebrow with a little smirk on his face.

“Get your fucking hands off of him.” Jim replied curtly. 

“Am I fucking missing something here?” He asked suddenly, grabbing Freddie by the waist. “Because last thing I heard, you couldn’t call ownership of a fucking whore.”

Freddie slapped him as hard as he could, his hand stinging from the impact as he watched a handprint blossom on his face. “How dare you?” Jim asked him, simultaneously grabbing Freddie’s wrist to pull him back against his chest. “You’re talking to my fucking fiancé.”

“You had your chance, if you’re jealous.” Freddie told him sarcastically. “It doesn’t take much for you to show your colours, does it?”

He leaned forward to grab him and Jim punched him as hard as he could, pushing Freddie behind him quickly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Your best friend believes that a quick battering is the most effective way to deal with a disagreement.” Freddie replied loudly. “He cheated on me and then he tried that shit, and so I haven’t fucking gone near him since.”

Jim picked him up quickly, a tiny fond smile crossing his face even as the man began to splutter defences at them both. “You’re a fucking liability in these shoes.” He murmured, carrying him down the stairs. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”

Freddie started to smile, tipsy and happy with his lover, and wound both arms around his neck. “I love you.” He whispered, resting his cheek against his collarbone.

“I love you too, you fucking psychopath.” Jim laughed, kicking the door open and carrying him out to a taxi. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to sit in your own seat?”

“Mm-” Freddie smiled lazily. “Never.”

* * *

Usually, when Freddie wandered around their flat, he would dress himself up in some way or another, a long shirt or just his briefs, a robe, a work shirt of Jim’s that sat sweetly around his hips; he would give his lover something to look at, whistle at, admire. He liked to know he looked good, he liked Jim’s gaze, and he liked to feel beautiful; he liked the safety of his husband-to-be, their flat, and the protection from the prying eyes of the rest of the world. 

He landed heavily on the sofa beside Jim, who was working through a stack of papers despite the late hour of the night; he noticed the pajamas Freddie was buried in, an old pair of Jim’s tied tightly on the hips, and frowned a little as he pulled him in closer. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

He let out a little huff of breath, his cheek pressed to his chest. “Do you think I attract bad people?”

“What?” Jim asked softly, putting his pen aside and winding a blanket around him when he felt him shiver. “No, baby, of course not.”

“I seem to attract guys that think that whores are common property.” He rubbed his face tiredly. “I sucked guys off for a couple of months and suddenly I’ll never have any respect again.”

“Oh, baby.” Jim whispered, kissing the top of his head. “I didn’t think you were that bothered by it?”

“I wasn’t, until everyone decided it was the only important part about me.” Freddie traced patterns on his leg and sighed. “I want to get away from it.”

“Soon everyone will just know you as the pretty model and singer.” Jim smiled. “The artist, too.”

Freddie looked up at him, his eyes a little wider. “Do you think so?” He asked softly.

“We’ve got that Vogue casting tomorrow, and you’ve got a show. Just wait until you end up on the cover of Vogue and NME on the same day.” Jim pulled him into his arms as they lay down together. “You’re beautiful, baby, it’ll happen.”

Freddie bit his lip to hide a shy smile. “Thanks.” He laughed shyly. 

“A lot of the guys in our world are assholes, my love.” Jim said gently. “I know it’s hard to adjust to, but we’ll go back to your world tomorrow, and you’ll get your fix of people loving you again.”


	38. Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sweetest moments in the early afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so here's an emotional break from Incandescent!

Freddie supposed he loved the affection after sex more than he loved the fucking itself; he loved this moment, quiet after the crescendo of their voices, nothing to disrupt the peace besides the soft sounds of slick lips against one another. He loved the feeling of being pressed to the mattress, Jim’s body weight pressing down on top of his own, making him feel sleepy and heavy as though his lover was simply a blanket, weighing down every inch of his limbs. He loved the days where they were in no hurry, when he could draw out the aftershocks for ten minutes, twenty, his lover still firmly buried inside him and listening to his pleas that he never leave, not ever, not even for a single moment-

“Mm…” Freddie moaned a little when Jim shifted his hips slightly, his body receptive to every little movement he made; he turned his head to the side to catch the lips that dragged lazily over the sweat-soaked skin on the planes of his back, taking their time to taste and appreciate the smoothness of his body. They passed lazy kisses back and forth, half-heartedly licking into each other’s mouths as they basked in the glow of their orgasm and the glow of the late afternoon sunshine as she threw warmth over their bodies. “You feel really good.”

Jim laughed softly and kissed Freddie’s cheek, then his ear, then the side of his neck as his lover lay comfortably on the bed beneath him; he felt as though he was drawn to his body, unable to stop pressing loving kisses to the warm skin beneath his lips, even as Freddie began to laugh. “I love you.” Jim whispered, rubbing a hand up and down Freddie’s side, and then he lay down heavily on top of him.

Freddie shivered with delight. “I love you too.” He whispered, catching Jim’s lips when he leaned down for another kiss; he let his eyes close heavily and relaxed under the body of his fiancé. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jim promised, kissing the shell of Freddie’s ear lightly. “You’re incredible, baby. I love you.”

Freddie smiled, sleep-heavy and warm, and let Jim press kisses to the jut of the muscles in his shoulders; he reached out and interlaced his fingers with the hand pressed beside his head. “I love you.” He echoed, lifting his hips a little when Jim began to pull back. “No, no- stay.”

Jim laughed softly but did as he was told, pressing his hips forward again. “You like that?” He teased, thrusting his hips a little.

“Mm- yeah.” Freddie moaned softly, his fingers locking in the covers; Jim laughed again as he lay back down on top of him.

“You’re too much.” He joked, brushing Freddie’s hair back into place; the longer strands had been hanging down into his eyes since Jim had pulled it, and as irresistible as it looked, he knew Freddie would want it neat again once they got up. “Love you.” He murmured again, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Love you.” He whispered, lips slack and relaxed with the rest of his body.

He’d never seen Freddie so calm in his whole life, his lashes dark against his cheeks as he lay there peacefully, mouth reddened from kissing and open just a little, bare body prickling with goosebumps wherever Jim touched him, so responsive to his touch. He allowed his lover to lay there, to bask in love and comfort, long past when he himself would’ve liked a shower; all that seemed important in that moment was looking after Freddie.

Jim reached over to his bedside table, careful not to disturb him or move too much, and retrieved a black marker, the old one he’d used to draw on Freddie’s skin the first evening he’d fallen asleep on him after a show. He uncapped it with his teeth and set to covering his upper back and shoulders with little hearts, as small as he could make them, watching his body blossoming with the expression of their love in shaky permanent marker; he followed their path with kisses and watched as Freddie started to smile. “Feels nice.” He murmured.

“Looks even nicer.” Jim sat up a little and admired his work, his hands pressing down on the warm skin of Freddie’s waist. It was so easy to mark his lover, his skin bruising so easily when nipped by teeth or grabbed firmly, but he watched as the warmth of his hands left pink handprints on his waist, the same marks he saw in the morning when Freddie’s cheek had been pressed to his chest all night; he couldn’t stop himself from tracing around the marks with the pad of his finger. “You know, baby…” He trailed off.

Freddie opened his eyes, smiling instinctively as the weight of his eyelids pressed them closed again. “Hm?” He hummed sweetly.

“I’m going to sell the business.” He whispered in his ear, running the palms of his hands over Freddie’s back either side of his spine, easing tired muscles from their tension. “I’m going to sell the docks.”

Freddie’s brow furrowed a little. “Why?” He murmured.

“You don’t like it. I can tell.” Jim leaned down to kiss the immediate protestation from his lips. “When they had me in jail- I realised that could happen again way too easily. If it wasn’t for you taking away the key and the paper with the address on- what did you do to those?” He asked curiously.

“I swallowed them.” He said honestly. “I panicked, and I knew if they found it, you’d be fucked. So I swallowed it and threw it back up again when I got to my parents’.”

Jim slipped a hand under his body and rubbed his hand back and forth lightly over his stomach. “I can’t believe you’d do that for me.”

“I was sick, they didn’t question it.” He said sleepily. 

“I- I don’t like the way that they treat you, the guys I do business with. And I don’t like being out at all hours of the day, I don’t like missing your shows, and I- I still earn millions from the banking, and my father will be looking to retire before long. So I’m going to sell the business.” He explained, petting Freddie’s hair gently. “But I’ll keep the clubs.”

Freddie smiled lazily at the revelation. “How much are you going to sell it for?”

“One guy has offered twenty-five million for the business, the suppliers, the farms in Columbia, the workforce at the docks, and the dealers I’ve got. So I’ll probably push him to thirty, and leave it there.” He yawned, winding his arms around Freddie tightly and burying his nose in the back of his neck. “Am I cooking tonight?”

“I can’t believe you’d just casually talk about cooking after telling me you’re selling your coke business for thirty million pounds.” He laughed and turned his head to kiss Jim once again. “I’ll cook, baby, don’t worry.”

Jim nuzzled his nose playfully and then kissed him back. “Sure?” He checked, slowly pulling out of Freddie.

Freddie gave a little cat-like stretch, yawning to himself, and then nodded as Jim passed him a sweater. “I could’ve fallen asleep there, you know.”

Jim laughed and picked him up, grinning when Freddie hugged tight to him to stay on his back. “You’re like a little koala.” He chuckled, wandering through the house to the kitchen, where he sat Freddie on the kitchen counter.

“You’re putting my bare ass on the counter where I cook.” Freddie laughed and lay back, stretching out his back; Jim smiled at the way he instinctively turned his face towards his bicep, just as he did whenever Jim cuddled with him. 

“Freddie, I’ve fucked you over that counter.” He laughed, finding a pair of briefs in the dryer and handing them to him. “An apology for ripping your other ones.”

He laughed and jumped off the counter, wiggling playfully as he arranged them on his hips. “I got your cum on the counter.” He laughed louder, winding his arms around Jim’s neck and standing on his toes to kiss him. “You dirty bastard.”

Jim smacked his ass playfully and Freddie squealed, batting at his chest in return. “You better be nicer to me if you want me to cook you dinner.”

“I love you-” Jim kissed one corner of his mouth. “And I can’t wait to marry you.” He kissed the other. “Nice enough?”

Freddie closed his eyes as his lover kissed his forehead, both temples, the end of his nose, both cheeks, his chin, and then his lips, laughing and glowing in the love he felt. “Definitely nice enough.”

“Good.” He kissed the end of his nose playfully once more before he let him go, though his fingers lingered on Freddie’s a moment longer, as though he couldn’t bear to let him go. “What are you cooking?”

“Hm…” Freddie turned to the fridge, arching an eyebrow immediately when Jim retrieved a packet of wipes from under the sink and set to work wiping down the counters. “Fuck me, who are you and what have you done with Jim Hutton?”

Jim smacked his ass again as he walked past, a little harder this time, and Freddie shivered with delight, a coquettish smile on his face. “Do you like my ass this shade of red?” He asked teasingly.

“I’d say it’s more of a pink right now.” Jim wound an arm around Freddie’s waist and let his other hand dip below the hem of his briefs to squeeze his ass. “You know you look fucking edible no matter what.”

Freddie smiled wider, more earnest that time, and tangled his hand in Jim’s hair as he started to kiss down the side of his neck. “Are you gunning for a round two?” He teased, capturing his lips. 

“I just can’t seem to keep my hands off of your body at the moment.” Jim kissed him again. “Or any of you. You just make me so fucking happy.”

“Who would’ve known we were meant to be?” Freddie teased, turning around so that they were nose-to-nose. “The rich man and the boy who shovelled his snow.”

“Sometimes I think of you back then, and it makes my heart hurt.” He admitted, brushing his fingers through Freddie’s hair, grown messy again. “The idea that you didn’t eat for days because you didn’t have the money- it makes me so fucking sad, darling. And it’s like- I’ve been watching you blossom, I’ve watched you change how you look, and that’s changed how you act, suddenly you’re- you’re nothing like the Freddie I first met, and I love that.” He said honestly.

“Really?” Freddie asked, smile bright on his face.

“You’re so fucking confident these days.” Jim laughed, kissing him sweetly. “You wouldn’t look me in the eye when we first met. You used to- you would defer to me, like I was way more important than you were, like you didn’t matter. But now- I know it sounds ridiculous, but now you fight with people, you stand up for yourself and your reputation and your image, and you stand up for us, and I’m so proud of you.”

Freddie thought for a long moment and then smiled wider. “I suppose you’re right.” He agreed. “It’s probably mostly down to the AmEx in my pocket with several million on it.”

Jim laughed and stroked his hair lightly. “I’m very fucking thankful that I met you, Mr. Hutton.”

Freddie paused for a moment and started to laugh. “Oh my God, I’m going to be a Hutton!”

He wasn’t prepared for Freddie to jump at him and stumbled back a few steps before he hugged him tightly, swinging him around in the air. “Unless you’d like to double-barrel it?” He checked. “Or I could take Bulsara, if you’d like.”

“No, no, God, I want to be a Hutton.” He hugged around Jim’s neck tightly like an excited child. “I can still be Mercury on stage, and then I- I don’t have to be Freddie Mercury all the time, just when I put on the glitter and leather and prance around in men’s laps.” He laughed.

“You can still be my little Freddie Mercury when I’ve got you in sequins in the club.” Jim kissed his forehead. “But you can be Freddie Hutton when you need to slow down.”

“Like right now.” He whispered, cupping Jim’s cheek lovingly. “Right now, I feel like Freddie Hutton.”

“Speaking of relaxing…” Jim smiled as he sat Freddie back up on the counter. “We’re going away for the weekend.”

“Are we?” Freddie asked excitedly. “Where?”

“Well, I know you don’t have any shows this weekend, and I thought you might like to go and relax on a beach for a while.” He murmured, rubbing his hands up and down Freddie’s bare legs. “I thought I’d take you to Harbour Island, just so you can get a feel for the place.”

“Where we’re going to get married?” He asked hopefully.

“Yes, baby, if you like it.” He caught Freddie’s kips in another sweet kiss. “You call the shots, you tell me if you like it, and if you do, then we’ll be going back in a few months to get married.”

“I can’t believe this is really happening.” Freddie laughed, breathless and excited. “Oh my God- darling, really?”

“Really.” He promised, one hand coming up to cup the back of Freddie’s head when his lover suddenly hugged him tight. “So let’s make sure you’ve got your bags packed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't heard, England is going back into lockdown, so expect to see a lot more chapters and a new fic appearing!


	39. Queen of Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really short and I'm super sorry it's taken so long - I'm hoping to have more chapters up soon!

Freddie squealed as he stumbled, his fingers seizing on Jim’s bicep as he hauled him back upright; Jim laughed and shook his head, winding an arm around Freddie’s waist for extra guidance. “You alright down there, sweetheart?” He teased.

“This is fucking ridiculous.” Freddie grinned, his body buzzing with energy. “I can’t believe you covered my eyes on the damn tube.”

“You agreed to it.” Jim laughed in his ear, Freddie’s skin prickling with the warmth of his breath against his skin. He felt as Jim’s thumb repositioned the tie over his eyes, the soft silk pulled further down his nose so that he could no longer even see his feet on the path beneath him. 

“I look like I’m your fucking gimp or something.” He laughed. “Sitting on the tube blindfolded with your fucking hands over my ears.”

“God, wouldn’t that be something?” Jim’s voice was low and teasing. “I didn’t want you knowing where we were going. It would’ve given it away.”

“Is it something we’ve talked about?” Freddie asked curiously, straining his ears to listen to the world around him. “Am I meeting somebody?”

“Not quite.” Jim pushed open a door with his foot and Freddie was immediately surrounded by the sound of buzzing; he dug his fingers further into Jim’s arm.

“Is this a fucking sex shop?” He whispered, his heart hammering harder in his chest. “It’s not late enough for a club-”

“That buzzing isn’t going anywhere near your ass, darling, don’t worry.” Jim snickered. “Do you remember the conversation we had about tattoos?”

“I was very drunk, darling.” Freddie chuckled lightly. “Are we..?”

“Would you like to get a tattoo on your hand?” He asked, lightly thumbing over the soft skin on his hand. “You can say no, baby, that’s absolutely okay.”

“What of?” He asked curiously. 

“It’s a secret.” He kissed the shell of his ear gently. “Fancy it?”

“If it’s a cock and balls, I’ll kill you.” He replied, though he was grinning like crazy. “Go on, then.”

Jim looked astonished. “Are you serious?” He grinned. 

“Fuck it. If it’s awful then you’ll pay for the cover up.” Freddie joked, sitting down when Jim pressed him into a chair. “How big are you planning?”

Jim handed the sketch over to the artist with a wink and traced his finger over the back of Freddie’s hand and then down his thumb. “Just this, baby. Is that okay?” He asked, kissing the top of his head.

Jim was still yet to get over how sweet and shy Freddie could turn when he was affectionate in public; he blushed like an angel whenever Jim kissed him or complimented him in front of people. “Yes.” He murmured softly, turning his face up blindly and catching the next kiss on his lips. 

“I’m going to get one that matches.” Jim told him, sitting down beside him. “That’s how you know it’ll be okay.”

* * *

When their fingers interlaced, though they were separated by the saran wrap between them, their patterns complimented one another perfectly. Jim’s hand boasted a red rose, petals wrapped around the jut of bruised knuckles, and Freddie’s the same but in the prettiest shade of baby blue; Jim’s thumb was adorned with the club of a playing card, proudly inked with the symbol of a king beneath it-

And, of course, Freddie was the Queen of Hearts.

His gasp shattered the quiet between them when his blindfold was lifted: he lifted his hand up to the light instinctively, his eyes caught on the most gorgeous ink he’d ever seen. “Fucking hell, Jim-” He whispered.

“Do you like it?” He asked hopefully, an earnest grin on his face.

“Did you draw this?” He asked, aghast. “Since when-”

“First thing I’ve had the time to draw in months.” Jim grinned. “I was sat in a meeting last Friday and I just- I had this image of you in my head. I thought- God, Freddie, you’re such a fucking queen, and then I couldn’t stop laughing imagining you as the my Queen of Hearts.”

“Quick to kill men in a blind fury?” Freddie smirked back at him. 

“Dressed all up in red.” Jim pulled him into a kiss and laughed against the warmth of his lips. 

“I’ll buy the pointe shoes if you pay for them.” Freddie kissed him again, a little more heated. “Enough time in heels will have made all the difference, right?”

“I’m not watching you break your fucking ankles.” Jim rolled his eyes playfully. “Do you like the rose?”

“I love the colour.” He lifted his hand again to admire it. “You’ve got a good eye for designing.”

“Thanks, baby.” Jim grinned, his cheeks pinkening just a little. “See, I told you that you’d like it.”   
  


“And I trusted you!” Freddie clenched his fist and watched as the petals rippled, as though caught by the breeze that came from under the door, out onto the busy London street. “And I'm glad I did, darling.”

* * *

His lashes were dark against his cheeks as he let out a long breath, the heat lulling him into a feeling of warm, calm, happy. “The last time I saw sunshine this bright, I was still in India.”

“And you’ve immediately found the spot of sunshine in this room.” Jim handed the bell-boy a fifty and turned back to Freddie, watching how he basked in the glow of the sunlight. “You look gorgeous, your majesty.”

Freddie laughed and opened his eyes slowly, watching his fiancé with nothing but love behind his eyes. “I like to think I’m a butterfly.” He stood up suddenly, stretching his arms out wide, and then up. “I have to have enough sunshine to warm up my wings.”

Jim wound his arms around Freddie’s waist as they looked out on the beach together, the sun trickling over their bodies as they stood intertwined. “What colour would your wings be?” He asked curiously.

“White.” He whispered. “Pure and beautiful.”

“God, I love how you speak about yourself.” Jim kissed the bump of his shoulder. “You are pure and beautiful.”

“People always say that you can’t be pure, and- and fucking feral, I guess.” He laughed sleepily. “What the fuck am I talking about?”

“I think the jet lag is getting to you.” Jim smiled. “You need lots of sleep tonight. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Big day?” He asked curiously, and then yawned; he instinctively turned towards Jim’s chest and then smiled when he was cuddled close. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

“One more secret?” Jim asked softly, kissing the shell of his ear. “It’s the best one yet, I promise.”

He let out a long breath, and then he laughed. “Okay, darling. One more secret.”


	40. The Last Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all he's ever dreamed of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image creds as always to the lovely delphine_fm/living_on_my_own!

Jim was lost for words at the sight in front of him, his lover stretched into a tableau of everything his gluttonous mind had ever dreamed of in a man; he lay on his front, sand hugging the oil on his calves, freshly massaged muscles covered by only a pair of swimming briefs. He’d spent the morning being pampered, his hair bleached freshly, his skin glowing from the facial he’d had alongside his massage, and now he lay out in all his iridescent beauty, slowly bronzing in the lunchtime sunshine. 

“Do you burn?” Jim asked abruptly, sitting on the ground beside him and spraying sunblock over his skin. “I’ve already turned a worrying shade of pink.”

“You’ll be fine.” Freddie smiled up at him, raising his leg and pointing his toes. “No, I don’t burn too often. Only if it’s like- I don’t know, forty degrees and I’m out in the sunshine for hours. But I’ll probably get sun sick before then.” 

“God, ten minutes and I go bright red.” He laughed and lay down beside him, kissing him briefly. 

“You’re Irish. You probably didn’t see the sun for the first twenty years of your life.” Freddie quipped with a chuckle. “Factor fifty in twenty-two degree heat, Jesus.”

“Alright!” He laughed. “Were you born in India?”

“No, darling. Zanzibar.” Freddie yawned languidly and turned onto his side to face him. “My parents are both Indian, though. But it was dry and warm most of the time, apart from the rainy season.”

“So you grew up in a climate like this, then?” He asked curiously, brushing a little sand off of Freddie’s cheekbone. 

“It’s a bit cooler here. It’s- what, mid twenties, most of the year?” He smiled and shielded his eyes from the sunshine. “It’s nice, though. I’ve been used to England for too long.”

“Bored of icy toes.” Jim nudged him with a chuckle.

“Hey, they’ve been much warmer since I’ve had your thighs to heat them with.” Freddie leaned up and kissed him lazily. “God, I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed in years.”

Jim pulled him into a hug and smiled at the warmth of his cheek pressed against his chest. “Can you hear that music?” He asked after a few minutes, straining his ears to listen. “Someone must be having a party.”

“Sounds like fun.” Freddie chuckled. “I don’t know anyone who plays- what is that, a quartet? Who hires a quartet for a party on a Saturday lunchtime?” 

Jim shrugged. “Why don’t we go and get dressed and have a look?”

“Are we allowed to gatecrash someone’s party that we’ve never met before?” Freddie laughed, though he stood up when Jim took his hand. “Can you style me, baby? I don’t even remember the clothes I brought with me.”

“That’s because you were drunk on champagne when we packed.” He grinned back at him and pulled him through the glass doors that led into their bedroom. “I think the lace shirt.”

Freddie brushed the sand from his back and swapped his underwear at his lover’s request, before he carefully pulled the shirt over his shoulders; the sheer lace patterned his bronze skin with gentle floral patterns. “I still can’t believe you found something like this.” He chuckled, brushing his fingers through his hair. “How about trousers?”

“The white shorts.” He passed them over and watched the curious smile light up on Freddie’s face.

“Don’t you think all white is a bit much?” Freddie asked with a laugh, blowing his hair from his face as he pulled them on regardless; he knew they were Jim’s favourites, tailored to stop just above his mid thigh and fastening just below his waist. “Tucked in?”

“No, I think-” He stepped closer and tucked the sides of the shirt in just a little, just to make it sit nicely on his hips, and smiled. “You look fucking gorgeous.”

“Paying for my maintenance is worth it.” Freddie winked and wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “Are you wearing white, too?”

“We’ll clash like hell.” Jim grinned, gently lifting Freddie’s wrist and closing the love bracelet around it, locking it in place. “I don’t look anywhere near as good as you in white. You’ve got the perfect skin tone for it.”

“You should’ve done a degree in fashion.” Freddie sat back on the bed, sandy toes brushing the rug on the floor, and smiled up at his lover. “I think I’m going to just go bare-faced today. It's been too long since I got some sunshine.”

Jim pressed a kiss of assent to his forehead as he walked past, retrieving his favourite red silk shirt from the wardrobe and holding it up to his bare chest. “Too much?”

“If white is my colour, red is yours.” Freddie smiled sweetly. “You’ll never be able to outdo the belle of the ball over here with too much.”

Jim laughed and pulled it on, along with a pair of black shorts; he watched Freddie’s gaze as he dressed and sprayed cologne at the base of his throat, his pulse beginning to quicken and blood rising to his cheeks. He smiled at his reflection, catching his lip between his teeth momentarily.

“Are you nervous?” Freddie laughed, quirking an eyebrow. “Baby, we don’t have to go, I was kidding.”

“No! No, I’m not nervous, sweetheart, I’m excited.” Jim leaned down and kissed him before he offered him a hand. “Come on, let’s go. It shouldn’t be too much of a walk.”

Freddie settled into Jim’s side, happy and content with his lover’s arm wound around his waist, the sunshine on his cheeks, and his toes in the sand; he reached up to press a butterfly kiss to Jim’s jaw as they wandered into the water together, splashing through the baby waves of the pink sand beach. “It sounds like there’s a whole fucking orchestra down there. Maybe it’s a show?” He suggested.

Jim concealed his smile in Freddie’s hair when he kissed the top of his head. “Maybe.” He agreed.

“Is that a harp?” He asked curiously as they walked closer. “Wait, shit, this looks like an occasion.”

“Do you think so?” Jim questioned, grinning wider as Freddie’s eyes began to take in the scene before him. Reflected in his gaze was a wide arch, draped with white silk and pink and white roses, and a pathway of white fabric that stretched out over the pink sand; either side of the pathway sat white chairs, filled with people, people dressed in every bright colour conceivable, pinks and blues and a lady in a bright green dress, cradling a baby in her arms. To their left sat a quintet, two violins, a cello, a viola, and a harpist in the centre, their clothes the same hue as the sand that sat beneath their instruments-

Jim felt the moment he stopped breathing: it was the moment his eyes landed on a cake near the arch, a cake replicated from a hasty sketch that he’d left tucked secretly in the sleeve of a record, a cake decorated with white roses, tiered high into the sky-

And it was when he caught the eyes of his father that he realised what was happening.

Freddie closed a hand over his mouth, his eyes bright, and looked back at Jim. “Fuck off-” He laughed, throwing his arms around Jim’s neck. “Oh my God!”

The music swelled around them as Jim picked him up, hugging him tight; Freddie gripped onto him as though he would never let go, amazed by the beauty of what he had created. “Happy wedding day, baby.” Jim murmured in his ear, carefully setting him down again. “Surprise!”

Freddie could only watch with wonder as Jim plucked a pale pink rose from the trellis and tucked it through one of his undone buttonhole loops. “I can’t fucking believe this.” He whispered. 

“There’s not a lot not to believe.” Freddie turned to his sister as she spoke, carefully brushing her fingers through Freddie’s hair to put it back into place. “It’s your big day.”

“Was I the only person who didn’t know about this?” He asked with a laugh, hugging her and then admiring the lace summer dress she wore. “God, you look beautiful.” 

“Bridesmaid.” She winked at him and gently took his hand, squeezing it lightly. “Now, are you ready?”

* * *

Freddie’s fingers trembled as he clasped his hands in Jim’s, looking oh-so-young and so excited as he watched the face of his fiancé. Jim’s eyes were fixed on the wonder behind his eyes as they looked at one another, caught up in their own world as though there was nobody watching them. Jim leaned in instinctively and pressed a kiss to his forehead, resting his spare hand on Freddie’s waist, and he could’ve sworn there was a collective murmur of happiness that came from their families; he smiled into Freddie’s hair and kissed him once again. “I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too.” Freddie grinned up at him, his cheeks flushed with happiness.

“Do you want to say your vows first?” The registrar asked Jim, smiling warmly at him.

“I’m going to fuck this up.” He laughed, glancing over at Bomi and mouthing a quick  _ ‘sorry!’,  _ eliciting a laugh from Freddie’s family. “I, well- I, Jim Hutton, take you, Freddie Bulsara, to be my lawful wedded husband.”

“Oh my God.” Freddie whispered, and Jim immediately broke into a huge smile, laughing a little. 

“You’re throwing me off!” He grinned, leaning in and kissing him gently.

The registrar laughed with them. “I promise to-” He prompted.

“I promise to be good to you.” Jim squeezed his hands happily. “And be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. And I- I promise to love you, and honour you, all the days of my life.”

Freddie watched as he slipped another ring onto his fingers, laughing breathlessly; he cupped both of his cheeks and kissed him adoringly. “Christ, I love you!”

“Your turn.” Jim grinned, squeezing his hands again, the warmth of their palms pressed against each other.

“And I actually know mine!” Freddie grinned. He took a long, deep breath, his heart thrumming in his chest, and glanced over at his sister; Kash gave him the sweetest smile ever, and he breathed out. “I, Freddie Bulsara, with a righteous mind, and truthful thoughts, words, and actions, and for the increase of righteousness, agree to give, forever, myself in marriage to you, Jim Hutton.”

He fumbled as he carefully placed the ring on Jim’s finger, his brow the picture of concentration as he slipped it on. His smile was bright when he looked up at his lover, but it turned iridescent a moment later-

“And with that, I can pronounce you husbands.” The registrar spoke.

Freddie threw himself into his husband’s arms, winding his arms and his legs around Jim’s body as he hugged him close; the press of their lips was ecstatic, and neither of them could stop laughing as they stood wrapped up in one another. The way Freddie felt in his arms was different, now that he was his husband; it was as though he could feel his love unbridled, the full, unrelenting power of his love clear in how hard he hung onto his husband. “I love you so much.” Freddie whispered against his lips, kissing him again. “I love you, you’re incredible- you’ve made this so fucking special.” He whispered.

Jim laughed and rested his forehead against Freddie’s, holding his body with ease; he felt as though he would never tire, that he was designed simply to stay in that moment forever, enraptured by the strength of the love that they shared. “You deserve it.” He whispered, “God, baby, I love you too.” He kissed him once more; he had only a moment longer to savour the feeling of his husband in his arms before they were both tossed into the waves of family and friends surging to hug them, to kiss them.

“I’m so proud of you.” Bomi said gently, kissing Freddie’s forehead. “Mr. Hutton.”

“Oh my God.” Freddie laughed again, hugging his father tight. “Oh, Pa-”

“I don’t think you’ve ever looked happier in your life.” He chuckled, hugging Freddie as close as he could. “I’m glad you said those vows.”

“I wanted them to sound like yours.” He pulled back just a little, blushing bashfully, and laughed when his mother kissed his cheek. “Just because- just because I’m married, Papa, it doesn’t mean I- I don’t love you, or I don’t want to be a part of our family too.”

“I know, darling.” He promised. “You think I’m not going to force you to come over every week for dinner?”

_ “You’ve pulled this off wonderfully, darling.” Sienna complimented her son, kissing his cheek. “I can’t believe just how gorgeous you made this place.” _

_ “Freddie wasn’t exactly subtle about what he wanted.” Jim chuckled and hugged her tight. “I found his drawing for the cake hidden amongst our records, and then I just used that as the rest of the theme. He’s always loved roses, and the white- I just knew it would look perfect here.” _

_ “It looks gorgeous. That shirt he’s wearing- it’s absolutely beautiful.” She smiled. “I always knew there was an artist inside you somewhere.” _

_ “I’d say he’s more of a designer myself.” David smiled as he hugged Jim. “I’m glad you used the Catholic vows. What were Freddie’s?” _

_ “I’m not sure.” He said bashfully, though he smiled widely up at his father. “I- I assumed he’d say the same ones as me, I didn’t realise he’d been practicing.” _

_ “They were beautiful.” He commented. “You’re really happy together, aren’t you?” _

_ “Did it take you this long to see it?” Jim joked, looking down at his wedding ring. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my whole life.” _

_ “We can tell.” Sienna promised him. She watched as Freddie waltzed up behind him, wrapping his arms around Jim’s neck from behind; her son broke out in the biggest smile and turned around, hugging him back.  _

_ Jim was momentarily worried about what his father would say, watching his expression as they stood together, but before he could say something himself, David spoke. “Congratulations, Freddie.” He said warmly, leaning forward and shaking his hand gently. “It’s nice to have you as a Hutton.” _

_ Freddie blushed and rested his head against Jim’s shoulder, smiling back at him. “That’s a really lovely thing for you to say.” He murmured shyly, “Thank you.” _

* * *

“Shit.” Freddie whispered, holding onto Jim’s sleeve; the sun was beginning to set over the beach as they sat together, watching their families as they basked in the warmth of the waves and the glow of the evening sunlight. “You can dance, can’t you?”

“What makes you say that?” Jim turned to him and smiled. 

“You told me that you learned ballroom dancing when you were learning rich people etiquette.” Freddie blushed. “I can’t dance for toffee. And we- we have a first dance, right?”

Jim took his hand. “I’ll teach you.” He grinned, placing Freddie’s hand on his shoulder and then clasping their hands together. “A basic box step.”

“Okay.” He grinned. “What do I need to do?”

“First thing- step back with your right foot.” He stepped forwards as Freddie stepped back and he grinned. “Step left with your left foot.”

“I’m shit at my lefts and rights.” Freddie chuckled, thinking for a moment before he stepped.

“You’ve got it, baby.” He soothed. “Close your right foot to your left, then step forward with your left foot.”

“Okay.” He blew a curl from his eyes as he concentrated. “Like that?”

“Exactly.” He grinned. “You said you couldn’t dance!”

“We’ve done four steps!” Freddie rolled his eyes, though he was grinning with pride.

“And there’s only two more.” He grinned. “Step right with your right foot, then close your left to your right.”

“That’s-” Freddie beamed wider. “You know, that’s not so hard.”

“And I’ll lead, so if you forget, you can follow me.” He promised. “Come on, let’s try it again.”

Freddie felt so safe in the arms of his husband, allowing himself to relax as they danced together, practicing as they waltzed barefoot in the sand. “I’ve always wanted-” Freddie leaned back and laughed as Jim followed his lead immediately, supporting him around the waist. “I’ve always wanted to do that!”

“You’re such a drama queen.” Jim grinned. “I fucking love you, Freddie Hutton.”

“I’m never going to get tired of listening to you call me that.” Freddie smiled up at him as they danced, listening as the quintet began to play again.

“You can’t have your first dance without photos!” Jer called, running across the sand to them; Jim watched as both families turned towards them immediately, coming over. 

“Mama!” Freddie laughed, pausing with his hand on Jim’s shoulder. “We weren’t-”

“You know, I always wanted to draw this moment.” Sienna told Jer, chuckling to herself. “My one little boy, all grown up and married!”

“I always knew I never needed another baby boy when I had Freddie.” She sighed happily. “He’s always been such a wonderful boy, ever since he was just a little-”

“Here we go.” Freddie whispered in Jim’s ear. 

Jim winked at the cellist, who began to play louder, and extended his hand for Freddie. “Can I have this dance, my darling?”

“You bastard.” Freddie laughed, taking his hand and allowing himself to be pulled back into a waltz. He swore a hush fell over his family as they began to dance, their steps effortlessly timed to the music that swelled around them; he closed his eyes and allowed himself to simply dance, to enjoy the moment they had together.

  
  


_ When they sat alone on the beach that night, drunk on champagne and kissing amongst the sand, they watched a shooting star cross the sky. In that moment, Freddie had nothing left to wish for: he had everything he could’ve ever dreamed of. _


	41. Bright Futures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas/Christmas Eve! Hopefully I'll have a fun little Christmas thing coming out tomorrow, but if right now is your Christmas, please enjoy this from me! Xx

When he rolled over, his arm wrapped instinctively around Jim’s waist, his fingers seizing at warm skin to sleepily drag himself that much closer into his lover’s - his husband’s - embrace. His lips were still reddened from kissing, his cheeks still flushed from the exertion of sex and the heat of the beautiful morning sunshine that flooded through their windows; his body felt lazy, heavy, warm, satisfied.

“You’re so warm.” Jim murmured sleepily, pulling him further onto his chest and resting his nose in Freddie’s hair. “Mm, baby…”

“Good morning.” Freddie yawned and then started to laugh, nuzzling his chest playfully. “Can we live here forever? I don’t want to go back to London.”

“We’ll buy this as a holiday home.” Jim yawned with him and squeezed him, enjoying the solid press of his body against his own. “We can come here whenever we want.”

Freddie paused and pressed himself up a little, so that he could look Jim in the eye. “Baby-” He choked on his laugh. “Jim, sweetheart, I was joking.”

Jim shrugged, his grin wide as he threw his arm over his eyes to block out the sunshine. “Why not?” He asked. “The house we stayed in when we got married, it could be ours forever.”

Freddie sat up, the sheets pooling around his hips, and smiled as he looked down at the diamond on his hand. The ring was gorgeous, the final Cartier to complete his set, studded with diamonds that sparkled in the sunlight; the centre piece was another large solitaire diamond, standing out beautifully against his tanned skin. “I can’t believe you surprised me with my own wedding.” He laughed softly. “I can’t believe we’re married, fuck.”

“Do you think I did a good job?” Jim fluttered his eyelashes playfully.

“It was like something out of a fairytale.” Freddie whispered. “You hired a fucking harpist, Jim.”

He shrugged again, his smirk even wider. “I just wanted to make it special for you, my love. I wasn’t about to palm you off with a little registry office do. I fully intend to spoil you for the rest of our days.”

Freddie blushed and stretched his arms overhead. “I can’t believe how comfortable you make me.” He chuckled. “It’s all so crazy- I’m on a fucking island in the Bahamas, I’ve got a lace shirt and a silk robe on the floor, I’ve got about ten grand’s worth of jewellery on my left hand, we own a flat in central London, and I- Jesus Christ, Jim, four months ago I was kneeling in the footwell of someone’s car to earn the money for the rent.”

Jim sat up slowly and rubbed his hands over Freddie’s thighs, delighting in the smoothness of his skin beneath his fingers. “Fate works in funny ways.” He smiled. “You know, I got a promotion the other day.”

Freddie arched an eyebrow, starting to grin wider. “Fuck off.”

“An extra forty million a year.” Jim shrugged with a smirk. “So I don’t think we’re going to miss the money from the coke.”

“I’d say that we should celebrate-” Freddie looked over his shoulder at the sunshine pooling in through the window and grinned. “But you know, darling, I’d say we already are.”

“I’ll crack open the champagne if you call for eggs royale.” He lay back amongst the sheets and watched as Freddie stood, his feet quiet on the carpet as he headed for the bathroom. “Where are you going, baby?”

“Wait there.” Freddie winked, disappearing into the bathroom; when he returned a moment later, his bronzed skin seemed to glisten in the low light, a silk robe hugging his figure, and when Jim’s eyes trailed their way to his lips, he saw them glitter in gold. 

“Jesus, baby.” Jim grinned, the expression full of satisfaction: he felt as though he’d found his golden ticket as Freddie stood before him. He lay back lazily, warm and heavy, and reached for the champagne bottle on ice next to him. “You look phenomenal.”

“You like the lipstick?” He asked coquettishly. “I suit glitter.”

“My darling, you’re the perfect queen.” He replied, filling Freddie’s glass generously when he held it out. “Your glass is covered in lipstick.”

“Drinking is about all I can remember.” He smirked, sitting on the stool at the vanity and crossing his legs demurely. “That and you eating me out.”

Jim shrugged, though his cheeks flushed a little, and took a drink directly from the bottle. “You were in the sea half the day in those tiny little speedos, I can’t be blamed.”

“Oh, I wasn’t blaming you!” Freddie insisted, fluttering his eyelashes just a little. “I always knew you were going to eat me alive.”

* * *

The stars in the night sky shone brightly over them both, illuminating the tangents of Freddie’s hair and making the diamonds in Jim’s cufflinks sparkle; they clasped their hands tightly, Freddie’s left and Jim’s right, tattoos and solitaire rings aligned. Freddie’s cheeks were reddened by laughter, by heat, and by alcohol, his shoulders shrouded by his lover’s jacket, and his hair bright under the lamplight; Jim’s skin had begun to tan, and freckles had blossomed across the apples of his cheeks. For once, Freddie was reminded of just how young he was, how young they both were: it was often easy to feel as though Jim were much older, loving him and caring for him because he was pretty. But seeing his lover, freckled by holiday sunshine, laughing over a glass of wine and a plate of pasta in a crumpled suit- Freddie felt as though they were childhood sweethearts in that moment, so innocent and untouched by the outside world. It was as though his past didn’t exist; for a moment he’d never slept with another man, he’d never been paid for sex, and every bad experience he’d had on his track felt erased from his mind. His whole body ached with relief, the relief of two sunshine-kissed hands clasped together, the relief of belonging, the relief of love.

“What do you want from our future?” Freddie asked, glancing up at his husband; Jim was caught off guard by the youthful beauty and innocence of his gaze, watching his lover oh-so-adoringly. 

“Our future.” Jim tasted the words on his tongue, appreciating how it rolled from the back of his tongue to the front, so natural. “I’d like to buy a house in the country.”

“In the country?” He echoed curiously. “Like- where?”

“The Cotswolds, maybe. I- you’ll think this is bizarre, but I’ve always really loved horses. I’d love to have a lot of land to ride them around.” He smiled. 

“You’re Irish, I don’t think it’s bizarre.” Freddie joked, sipping his wine. “I’d like that. Somewhere a bit quieter than London.”

“But also a place we could throw a crazy party.” Jim grinned back at him. “Enough bedrooms for all the guests.”

“There’s a reason I married you.” He laughed. “What else?”

“I’d like to travel for a while. Maybe when Queen takes off, we can go on tour together, I can experience all the places you get to go to.” He suggested. “And then we don’t have to be apart.”

“Oh, I love that!” Freddie grinned. “I’ll fly you all over the world.”

“We’ve already got a photoshoot booked in for you in New York.” Jim arched a playful eyebrow. “Remember Armani?”

All heads turned towards them when Freddie dropped his fork on his plate with a clatter. “Fuck off.”

“Surprise surprise, they’re very much interested in scouting a pretty little blonde-” Jim leaned over the table and wound a loose strand of hair around his finger. “To head their next Vogue editorial.”

“How do you organise all this?” Freddie laughed, standing up and launching himself at Jim; he landed in his lap and cupped his cheeks with both hands, kissing him full and warm. “Somehow you organise your own work schedule, my show schedule, scoutings, our fucking wedding-”

“I have a PA, baby, I don’t do shit.” Jim chuckled and pecked his lips. “She tells me to go to a meeting and I go.”

“I told you that you rich bastards have it easy.” Freddie laughed and rolled his eyes, taking another drink from his glass. 

“Would you-” Jim paused for a moment, looking genuinely sheepish, and took Freddie’s hand again. “Would you ever want- y’know, kids? Or is that not really your style?”

Freddie blushed and glanced up at the fairy lights strung above them; when his eyes caught the light, Jim swore he’d never looked so beautiful. “I would.” He said shyly. “But not- not until I’m older. I don’t really want to tour with a baby or anything like that, I think it’d be too hard. But maybe when I’m- I don’t know, forty? When I’m starting to slow down a bit, then I’d like some.”

“Some?” Jim asked, the squeak in his voice betraying his excitement.

“A couple. Maybe three. I used to dream-” He bit his lip. “God, I sound so lame.”

“Freddie, you cried when you were drunk because I told you that Delilah was asleep and you were worried that she wasn’t curled up in her usual spot by the fire.” Jim laughed. “You don’t have to be tough with me, baby.”

“I always used to dream about having a baby and a toddler at once.” He admitted. “People always say that it’s tough, but I- I don’t know, I just loved the idea of a house full of noise, and the energy and love of two little kids that love and hate each other- I just think it would be so beautiful.”

Jim was quiet for a long moment, and then he started to smile even wider. “You really fell out of my wildest dreams, didn’t you?”

Freddie rolled his eyes but Jim just hugged his arms around his waist. “I can’t even tell you how much I love you.” He said seriously. “I can’t even tell you how much you mean to me.”

“I think you already have, sweetheart.” Freddie said sweetly. 

“I can’t wait for our future.” Jim laughed. “I can’t wait for years of adventures and then, knowing that- that’s like the pot of gold at the end of the longest rainbow.” He smiled and tenderly cupped his cheek once again. “I love you, Freddie Hutton.”


	42. Boat Parties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new role, and the same love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all can thank nish that this is being updated today!

Freddie could be a different person each evening, depending on what it was that he drank; he was lethal, catty, positively evil on vodka - Jim couldn’t count the number of times Freddie had run to him when he’d started fights with men four times bigger than him, a dangerous flutter of his eyelashes to placate his lover - while he was quieter, more reserved when he’d been drinking gin. He would never stop laughing if he’d been on shots, or if Jim had convinced him to mix his drinks instead of drinking them straight-

But Freddie on whiskey was his favourite.

He was sure that the whiskey and cocaine would kill them both one day, but it was his favourite combination; it created a Freddie who was afraid of nothing, wanted everything, and who thought he was the most beautiful man.

And fuck, he looked it.

His lipstick was smudged from the corner of his mouth from Jim’s fingers, drawing a red line down to the trail of marks that ran down the side of his neck and under the hem of his shirt; he wore a white shirt of Jim’s tied into a crop top and a pair of the shortest shorts he’d ever seen, hacked from a pair of jeans he never wore anymore. His skin looked glossy in the starlight, covered in a light sheen of his sweat that he’d drowned out with half a bottle of cologne, and his shirt stuck to his back and arms, exposing the light jut of muscles. He was barefoot on the deck of the boat, having lost his shoes when he’d leapt into the ocean with his lover-

And now he was laughing, his glass balanced precariously in his hand, cheeks flushed with delight. It was an unconventional thing, Jim thought, to have your wedding reception three days after the ceremony itself, but he’d held out until he could fly in as many of Freddie’s friends as he could - and until he could secure dinner reservations for the members of his family he was sure he wouldn’t want to see him with coke on his nose and whiskey on his shirt. He knelt on the deck of the boat, still half-heartedly dancing to the beat of the music that had been going for hours, though it was more shaking his ass than anything else, his arms wound around Jim’s neck as he laughed against his lips.

“I love you so much!” Freddie pushed Jim back suddenly, throwing his glass aside and climbing over Jim’s hips to straddle him. Jim laughed, smoothing his hand over his bare stomach, and kissed him indulgently. “This is the best fucking party ever!”

“You’re a fan of a boat party, then?” Jim teased playfully, cupping Freddie’s cheek.

“Roger snorted coke off Brian’s cock!” Freddie burst out laughing. “John’s on his fourth girl- where the fuck did you find them all? Crystal- he- he and Liza, they fucking-” He broke himself off, laughing too hard, and covered his face with his sleeve, attempting to wipe his eyes. “I can’t believe you brought Phoebe!”

“I sent an invite to everyone in your address book.” Jim smirked, delighted with himself, and slipped his hands down to grip Freddie’s ass. “And everyone in mine, hence the girls.”

Freddie rocked his hips forward and Jim gasped, taken aback by the friction - he’d been half-hard all night, watching Freddie dancing on every table, every chair, on the bar, and on the shoulders of men he’d later found out were old lovers - though they hadn’t been able to keep their hands from one another while they’d been in the shower.

Of course, they’d been fashionably late.

“Baby-” He laughed as Freddie leaned down to kiss him again, spurred by his reaction. “Freddie, sweetheart, we can’t here-”

“It’s my party, I’ll do what I want.” Freddie smirked, sitting up and dragging his shirt overhead, exposing the tan lines that the evening sunshine had left on his skin. 

“Freddie!” Jim propped himself up on his elbows as Freddie stood up and popped the buttons on his shorts, winking at Jim. He looked aghast, though he started to laugh again as he watched him. 

Freddie kicked his shorts off and looked over his shoulder, suddenly turning and diving down into the water below him-

“I fucking told you he wore a thong!” Roger shouted from the seating area on the top deck. “Fifty quid! I told you, he’s a fucking whore!”

“I can hear you!” Freddie shouted from in the water, floating on his back with a grin and closing his eyes. “Baby, come in, it feels so good!”

Jim looked over the edge of the boat and rolled his eyes playfully, tugging off his shirt before he jumped in, the water splashing over his lover. “Motherfucker!” Freddie laughed, wiping sea water from his eyes as he held onto the boat with one hand. Jim swam closer to him, winding an arm around his husband’s waist, and kissed him lightly. Freddie hummed as he kissed back, running his fingers through Jim’s hair, slicking it back with water. “Fucking hell, I absolutely adore you.” He murmured, seeming to calm down a little. 

“I love you too.” Jim chuckled, running his hand over Freddie’s arm. “I’m really glad you liked the party.”

“I’ve never been on a better holiday before.” He smiled and rested his head against Jim’s shoulder. “The wedding was perfect, the ceremony was perfect, the dancing was perfect- and this, darling, I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun in my life-”

Freddie’s eyes glittered in the dim light of the sunset, and Jim watched his lips form around a gasp, a look of childlike excitement on his face. “Jim!” He gasped. “Jim, Jim, look!”

Jim turned his head just in time to watch a dolphin leap out of the waves in the distance, and he gasped in the same way, his hand seizing Freddie’s bicep as they watched. “Oh my God-” He laughed, looking back at the awe on Freddie’s face. “Do you think we went to Heaven?”

“I don’t think I remember dying at any time.” Freddie wound both arms around Jim’s waist and tucked his chin over his shoulder; Jim could feel the gentle swirl of the water around their legs as Freddie kicked back and forth to keep himself afloat. “Have you ever been to this place before?”

“No, darling. But it-” He chuckled a little. “Tom always wanted to come here for our honeymoon, and I- I just really thought it was beautiful, I suppose, when he showed me the photos of it. And you and he, honestly, you have very similar tastes in a lot of things, you both love the most beautiful things in life.”

Freddie started to smile as Jim turned back to him, his eyes seeming to encapsulate the wonder that Freddie felt, the love that felt as though it could burst from the very seams of his body. “Except I love the most beautiful thing of them all.” He murmured. “The one thing that he never appreciated.”

“And I decided that I could love somebody that’s completely mental.” Jim teased and kissed his forehead. 

“I was trying to be nice!” Freddie laughed, splashing him with sea-water. 

“Oh, baby, you’re perfect.” Jim kissed him indulgently, tilting his chin up with his finger until Freddie began to melt into his kiss. “You don’t have to try to be nice, honey, you just are. You’re lovely.”

Freddie blushed and rolled his eyes, but Jim could see how pleased he was from the smile that was drawn on his face as though in indelible ink. “I can’t believe I actually married you.”

“In a holy-shit-I-can’t-believe-fate-brought-us-together kind of a way or what-a-twat-this-guy-is kind of a way?” He asked playfully.

“You were supposed to be married to one of the most successful fucking businessmen in London, darling, and yet somehow it’s me with four diamonds on my finger, having my wedding reception on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic fucking ocean.” Freddie said softly. “Somehow, you decided that I was the person you were going to spoil forever more.”

“Somehow, you decided that you were going to be the most beautiful and loving boyfriend that I could’ve asked for.” Jim replied, helping to hoist Freddie back onto the ladder and watching as he climbed up and sprawled out on the deck instead; he closed his eyes, lashes fluttering gently, greedily soaking up the last few rays of sunshine that the day had left to offer him.

“Come here, darling.” Freddie reached from him, smiling when Jim lay down beside him and kissed his jawline. “Do you know anything about stars?”

Jim kicked off his sodden shorts, leaving him just in his briefs as they sunned themselves on the deck. “A little bit. You can barely see them right now.” He mused, lacing their fingers together and smiling.

“You can see a couple.” Freddie pointed up with their joined hands, unable to stop himself from grinning. “What are those ones?”

“Canis Major.” He answered immediately. “Sirius is the really bright one, you can always spot that.”

Freddie beamed at him, and it was at that moment that Jim realised he was wrong: it was his smile that was the brightest star in the whole of the universe. “You do know!”

“I used to have a poster of a couple of constellations on my wall, it was just that Canis was one of them.” He explained, gently tracing Freddie’s finger along the lines of the constellation. “My dad always wanted me to be a scientist.”

“A scientist?” Freddie asked softly. “Why?”

“He hates banking. He spent hours trying to convince me not to apply for a job at Standard Chartered.” He chuckled. “But it’s far more my style. He’s not a big fan of leadership, he doesn’t like to organise people, but I do.”

Freddie stayed quiet for a long while, clenching and straightening his fingers in Jim’s grip. “Baby?” He asked sweetly.

“Hm?” Jim asked, rolling his head to look at his husband; he considered that they could sleep right where they were, wrapped up in a blanket of the stars and the warmth of the ocean breeze. 

“Speaking of organising people-” He trailed off. “Would you- is there any chance you’d ever like to be involved- with me? With us, I mean- with Queen?”

Jim arched an eyebrow, curious, and smiled back at him. “In what way, baby?”

“Well, you know how awful the last manager was.” He shrugged. “I’d like someone who- who I can trust. Who I know can herd cats when he needs to.”

“Quite literally.” Jim grinned. “How much would I need to organise for you?”

“We can organise all our rehearsals and everything like that, you wouldn’t need to do anything to do with that. Just organising gigs, you know, getting in contact with the right people, being a point of call for record execs, that kind of thing. Kind of what you do for me already, with all the modelling.” Freddie bit his lip shyly. “We thought about it, you know, and you- well, you’ve always got your shit together. Maybe you could keep our shit together too.”

Jim picked up Freddie’s hand and pressed a row of butterfly kisses to each of his knuckles. “You know what, baby? I’ll do it.”


	43. Sandy Afternoons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father and son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen we all needed a break from Embassy so I present to you idiots in love!

The sunglasses balanced precariously on the bridge of his nose, threatening to slip backwards towards his eyes at any moment as he lay amongst the warm sand; the hangover thrummed in his mind, but it felt warm, welcome, languid. There was no pressure, nothing to rush for, no reason for him to have to stand up and move and make his headache worse: he was free to be as lazy as he liked.

It was a rare feeling, and one that Freddie had only ever experienced in little snatches, waking a half hour later to replenish an exhausted mind and body. He’d never before had the opportunity to simply relax, to soak in the sun, no demands made of him, nothing he had to push for, work for. He’d never before had the chance to eat shakshuka at four in the afternoon, his lover’s face pressed to his thigh as he slept, as a hangover cure; he’d never before been able to savour a mug of French pressed coffee as he’d dressed, as he’d pampered himself with the lotions, serums, and oils that had been lost the night before. He hadn’t had the opportunity to lay down on the sand at the front of their house, soaking up the sunshine like a butterfly seeking warmth for its wings, simply able to relax.

He’d dozed there in the afternoon light, letting it paint his skin a light pink, letting it bronze his body as he lay there in nothing more than a t-shirt and a pair of swimming briefs; he’d entertained the idea of dipping his toes in the sea when his lover finally surfaced from the warm cocoon of their bed, laughing with him, loving, happy, married.

The word made his heart want to burst with the happiness it held inside. 

He’d never loved a man as much as he loved Jim Hutton. He’d never loved another man’s flaws in the same way as he loved Jim’s, his idiosyncrasies, his tendency to leave his clothes on the back of the chair or footstool as though he still had a housekeeper, his total inability to cook, how often he would forget to water the plants in the lounge and how he still had to be reminded to feed the kittens at three in the afternoon. He’d never loved another man’s laughter so much: he’d never felt the irresistible urge to kiss someone when the expression they wore was one of simple, pure delight before. He’d never loved someone’s appearance so much, the little curl that fell onto his forehead when he missed a barber’s appointment or the five o’clock shadow that hugged his jawline and would tickle Freddie’s skin when they kissed in the early morning. He’d never loved someone so much for every little thing about him, every kiss and every hug and every sweet promise on butterscotch lips, pinkened skin in the sun and gentle hands when they lifted him to sit him on countertops just to keep him closer for one more moment.

He’d never, ever felt so loved before.

He turned his head when the sand rustled beside him, when another body stretched out alongside his own; he carefully took off his sunglasses and lay them down in the sand beside him- and then he broke into the biggest smile. “Pa?” He asked happily.

“I heard you had one hell of a party last night.” Bomi chuckled, laying on his side to look at Freddie; the happiness incarnate on Freddie’s face made his own smile impossible to rub off. “I heard your clothes didn’t stay on for long.”

“I kept my underwear on!” Freddie laughed, cheeks reddening, but he simply rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Which I heard didn’t leave much to the imagination.” He chuckled, pinching one of Freddie’s blushing cheeks.

“You heard wrong.” Freddie insisted, shaking his head with a laugh. “It was one hell of a party, though. Jim pulled out all the stops.”

“This whole thing has been rather an achievement, hasn’t it?” Bomi agreed. “I mean, I thought the wedding was gorgeous, and your house is clearly lovely- but you should see the room he’s put your mother and I in! I think you could fit just about our entire family in there. It’s like a little suite, Freddie, it’s got a chef and everything. And the restaurant last night, it was the best food either of us have ever eaten before- and they did ballroom dancing after we’d finished.” His sigh was a little dreamy. “I told your mother it was the wedding reception we never got.”

Freddie laughed, stretching out his arm and resting his cheek against it as he rolled onto his side, watching his father. “I’m really glad you’ve had a good time.”

“We weren’t allowed to see you the day before the wedding, Jim wanted to keep it all a secret so you wouldn’t work out why all your family were with you.” Bomi grinned. “So he paid for us all to have a spa day at this resort on the other end of the island, just to keep us busy for the day. Your mother’s never looked happier in her life.”

“He did the same for me.” Freddie told him, his voice dream-like and soft. “The morning of the wedding I had a full pamper session, a wax and a facial and a massage. It must’ve been so that he could check the preparations.” He laughed. “And I got champagne with it, even though it was ten in the morning.”

“He’s simply spoiled you rotten.” He joked, pausing for a moment before he spoke again. “He really loves you, you know?”

“I know.” Freddie said softly. “The way he looks at me, Pa-”

“The way he speaks about you, Freddie. It’s like there’s nothing in the world that’s more precious to him than you are. He-” Bomi laughed a little. “Before he confirmed all the bookings for this, he came to me to ask if he could marry you. He said that you’d proposed, but he wanted to be absolutely certain that I was happy for you to marry. He had your engagement ring already, and he’d chosen your wedding ring, he showed me them both. And I- I told him, you know, that I couldn’t think of a single person that you deserved more than him. And when I gave him my grace, he cried.”

Freddie’s cheeks reddened further and he grinned widely - it had been a long time, Bomi thought privately, since Freddie had felt so happy and easy to smile like that. “Really?” He asked softly.

“He told me it was all he wanted.” Bomi grinned. “Wanted to know that I would accept you both if you married. Because he told me, darling, that he didn’t want to drive a wedge through our relationship. He didn’t know if I was really okay with him, or if I was just putting up with it.”

“He’s so thoughtful.” Freddie whispered. “What did you say?”

“I said that I already considered him my son, too.” He said simply. “And that it wouldn’t change anything. Because- Freddie, I can tell just how much you love him, and I would never want to come between that.”

“I love you.” Freddie said softly. “I- He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before, Pa. He’s- he’s never wanted to change me, he’s never tried to- to cut bits of me out, or add things to me. He just loved me, wholeheartedly.”

“Love like that is rare.” Bomi said, voice a little more serious. “But I can tell it’s real, darling. I could tell it was real from the moment he came into our house and treated it as though it was a luxury villa, when he cuddled up with you on that awful little sofa we used to have in the lounge and he looked at you like- like he’d walk to the end of the earth for you. I thought he’d sneer at us, or- or he’d try and order you around to make him more comfortable, but I realised that the only thing that mattered to him then was you. And just how hard he worked to make us all comfortable, like he honoured that we’re your family- he never tried to replace us. He bought us a house with a room for you in it, Freddie.”

“He brought my Delilah back.” Freddie whispered. “He- he called every shelter in west London to find her, because he knew how much she meant to me.”

“I’m so glad you found each other.” He said earnestly. “And I’m thankful you never tried to fit in anybody’s box, darling, because you found your perfect fit in Jim.”

* * *

“Fuck off.” Freddie said, half-naked and tousled as he sat on the end of the bed, staring up at Jim. “Absolutely fuck off are you called James.”

Jim deftly avoided the blow to the head with his own passport as he laughed, Freddie’s arms waving wildly in the air. “What did you think I was called?” He laughed.

“Your fucking name!” Freddie laughed. “Jim! I thought you were called Jim!”

“Who’d call their kid Jim?” He grinned. “At least I got to choose what variety of James I wanted to be. I could’ve been Jamie. Or Jimmy.”

“Thanks! I hate it.” Freddie grinned. “Fuck, you’d be a weird Jamie. You’re too butch.”

“I’m not a woman, Freddie.” He rolled his eyes playfully as he sprayed cologne on the base of his throat.

“Exactly. I’d make a better Jamie than you.” Freddie stood up and wound his arms around Jim’s waist from behind, resting his cheek against the planes of his lover’s back. “You should’ve been Jay.”

“What, and really hammed up the nineteen-twenties ultra-rich ‘Old Sport’ thing?” Jim laughed. 

Freddie thought for a moment, and then snorted with laughter. “Jimbo.”

“Fuck, don’t.” Jim chuckled, turning to hold Freddie idly against his chest; he loved the way his husband would always melt into the embrace. “I’ve got some terrible memories of screaming when my mother called me that when I was about four.”

“You really don’t suit James.” Freddie murmured against his chest. “You’re definitely a Jim.”

“Thanks?” Jim laughed. “At least you can pronounce my real name.”

“Oh, you can pronounce Farrokh!” He rolled his eyes and sat back at the foot of the bed, before he allowed himself to lay back amongst the bedsheets. 

“Far-ruk.” Jim tried.

“Roo.” Freddie corrected, arching an eyebrow. “It’s an ‘oo’ sound. Fa-r-oo-k.”

“Far-ook.” He tried again.

“Short a!” Freddie started laughing. “Christ, you’re hopeless. Let’s hope we adopt a kid called Sally, otherwise they’re going to need a fucking nickname quickly.”

“You said I could do it!” He pouted petulantly, climbing onto the bed beside him and pulling him into a kiss. “You all spread out on the bed makes me not want to leave this room.”

“You’ve had your blowjob, you horny motherfucker.” Freddie slapped his chest playfully and then started buttoning his own shirt slowly. “Anyway, I was promised a bottle of wine and a no-expenses-spared meal on a yacht under the stars, sex can wait.”

Jim snorted. “Fuck the sex when there’s profiteroles on offer.”

“Exactly!” Freddie laughed as he stood up. “Oh, darling, you know me so well- it’s almost like we’re married or something!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sponsored by the 90 I got in my most recent essay that has made my mood too good to write anything other than these fools

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first part! Let me know in the comments what you're thinking so far :D


End file.
